


The Way You Look Tonight

by La_Prima_Donna



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Autistic Javert, Blow Jobs, Bottom Javert, Dancing, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Javert and Chabouillet are bros, Jazz - Freeform, Jealousy, Lots of OCs - Freeform, M/M, Madeleine Era, Montreuil-sur-Mer, Mutual Pining, Party, Pining, Slow Dancing, Songfic, Top Valjean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 02:25:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19032850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Prima_Donna/pseuds/La_Prima_Donna
Summary: He did not want to go to the gala, truly. He didn’t want to wear his dress uniform and sit next to rich people he didn’t know or care to know, or eat fancy food he was quite sure he would dislike, or watch people dance as he stood awkwardly to the side, clutching a drink that was all that was getting him through the night.But there’d also be Monsieur Madeleine. He’d be there, bright and kind and apparently paying attention to Javert… And goodness knows, there wasn’t much Javert liked more than attention from Madeleine.





	The Way You Look Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a songfic for one song, and it, uh... It grew. 
> 
> Javert's rank in this fic is Lieutenant because I did some research on the French police system and it turns out it was reformed in the 90s and the rank previously called Inspector was renamed to Lieutenant. Weird
> 
> Also this is my first time using this head canon for Javert's first name in a fic so there's that
> 
> This fic includes the lyrics to the following jazz songs:
> 
> "Make the Man Love Me" with lyrics by Dorothy Fields  
> "I've Got You Under My Skin" by Cole Porter  
> "I've Got a Crush on You" with lyrics by Ira Gershwin  
> "Something Stupid" by C Carson Parks  
> "Save the Last Dance for Me" by Doc Pomus and Mort Shuman  
> "The Way You Look Tonight" with lyrics by Dorothy Fields
> 
> Be warned that there will be swearing, and some rude things said about people. And sex.

Javert was patrolling the town square, scanning the area around him, and certainly not thinking about the mayor, when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Lieutenant Javert! There you are!”

He stopped in his tracks, turning to face the sound of the voice. “Yes, Monsieur Madeleine?”

The shorter man approached him quickly, smiling. “I’ve been hoping to find you all day!”

“What for? Is there a problem?” There likely wasn’t, judging by Madeleine’s demeanor and sunshine smile, but Javert could never be too sure.

“No, not at all! I was simply going to ask you if you were going to the gala tomorrow evening.”

Ah, yes, the gala. It was the grand opening of Montreuil-sur-Mer’s first ever event hall, sponsored, of course, by the mayor himself, after he realized the town had no such place. It had never needed one before, as it had been a small, rather poor coastal town that could have no use for a fancy, lavish event space. However, after Madeleine’s arrival and reform of Montreuil, the population increased and became overall more wealthy, and suddenly, it became a problem that there was no place to host gatherings like formal parties and secular weddings.

“I was not planning on it, Monsieur, unless my presence as a police Lieutenant was required,” Javert answered.

The other man’s eyebrows drew together in an expression akin to disappointment. “Why not, Javert? There will be a dinner, and– and dancing, and many important and influential people will be there!”

Javert scowled slightly. “I am not one for parties, Monsieur.”

“To be frank, I am not really into them myself,” the mayor answered, a little more quietly. “I was hoping in part that you’d come so that I’d have a similarly introverted friend to hang around with.” He finished this was a bashful smile.

Javert flushed. _Friend._

He had never intended on becoming this man’s friend; truly, he had wanted to keep all the distance he could manage from him. However, in his efforts to keep a close watch on Monsieur Madeleine, due to his suspicions, he had accidentally inserted himself far more into his life than intended. At first, Madeleine was scared of the Lieutenant. Eventually, though as Javert’s presence became more and more ubiquitous, he seemed to grow accustomed to him, and then fond. Javert’s silent observations had been interrupted by conversation from the mayor, and, eventually, Javert ceased being annoyed by this. Madeleine was very kind, very intelligent, and made good conversation. Most importantly, he never bothered Javert or talked to him more than he wanted. Eventually, they had become something like friends, indeed. They often took walks together through the town, and on occasion, Javert would be invited to overstay a scheduled meeting with the mayor in order to have tea.

“I…” Javert didn’t exactly know how to answer. He did not want to go, truly. He didn’t want to wear his dress uniform and sit next to rich people he didn’t know or care to know, or eat fancy food he was quite sure he would dislike, or watch people dance as he stood awkwardly to the side, clutching a drink that was all that was getting him through the night.

But there’d also be Monsieur Madeleine. He’d be there, bright and kind and apparently paying attention to Javert… And goodness knows, there wasn’t much Javert liked more than attention from Madeleine.

“Please, Javert? I would love to have you there,” Madeleine added at Javert’s silence. He touched Javert’s elbow gently, and the Lieutenant couldn’t help but look down at it, blushing a little. _I would love to have you there._

“Would you really?” Javert asked.

“Yes, of course!”

“I…” he started again, blinking at the hand on his arm and then turning to Madeleine and regarded his sincere expression. “Alright, I’ll come.”

The mayor smiled wide. “Wonderful! I’m so glad to hear that!”

Javert smirked slightly back at him. He hoped he wouldn’t regret his decision…

* * *

 

Javert arrived at the gala slightly late. Though he habitually arrived on time – if not early – to everything, he felt it would be quite uncomfortable to be among the first to arrive. It would prolong to unnecessary lengths the torture of this social event.

He climbed the stone staircase that led to the front entrance of the new event hall– it seemed there would be no banner-cutting here – and proceeded to a large wooden door.

A smiling young man in a suit who was standing near the entrance nodded at him. “Enjoy the evening, sir.”

“Thank you,” Javert replied, walking inside.

Javert was in his dress uniform, of course, minus the hat, as that would be silly indoors. It looked quite a bit like a regular black suit, save for the jacket being longer and with shiny silver buttons, and the badges displaying his rank which adorned his breast pocket and shoulders. He had taken the liberty to style his hair differently, pulling a small part of it back into a ponytail to keep it out of his eyes, allowing the rest of it to flow freely down his back. It had grown very long, and almost touched his waist. He had claimed he wore it this way for cultural reasons – which was probably the only lie he’d ever told to his superiors– and thus was allowed to keep it long, provided it could be tied back tightly in a bun or braided under his hat while on active duty. He was uncharacteristically proud of his hair, and was happy to have the chance to show it off every so often.

Javert felt strangely good about his appearance in general that night, in fact; and this was exceedingly rare for him. His dress uniform fit him well, save for being quite too tight around his rear – although, to be fair, no trousers fit Javert in this area – and he did not feel as ugly as he usually did. He hoped Madeleine would think so as well.

“Lieutenant Javert! It’s good to see you!”

It was Chief Superintendent Chabouillet who had spoken. Javert turned to him, and noticed he was accompanied by his wife, Julie. “You as well, Monsieur le Commissaire. And you, Madame Chabouillet.”

“My, you look quite spiffy in your dress uniform, Lieutenant!” said Madame Chabouillet.

“Thank you,” Javert replied.

“Come to think of it, I haven’t seen you wearing it in quite some time,” Commissaire Chabouillet mused. “You don’t seem to make it a habit to attend social events.”

“This is true, Monsieur. I typically avoid such things when I can.”

Chabouillet produced a wheezing laugh. “That does not surprise me, Javert. So, what made you come to this gala?”

“The mayor requested my presence,” he answered.

“Ah, I see. Yes, no one can resist a request from that man,” the Chief Superintendent said, smiling.

Javert didn’t know how to reply, so he simply nodded. It was true; it was incredibly difficult to deny Madeleine anything, what with those warm brown eyes and brilliant smile. That was why he had begun a friendship with the man in the first place; it became increasingly difficult to refuse his attempts at casual conversation.

“Well, I’ll let you go,” Chabouillet said. “Have a good time, Javert. Try to let loose a little, will ya?” He said, clapping Javert’s shoulder in the same way a father that calls his son ‘champ’ would do so.

“Yes, sir,” Javert replied, jolting slightly at the impact. The older couple chuckled as they walked away.

Now standing by himself in the main hall of the new event space, he Lieutenant looked around, scoping out the situation. He acted similarly while off duty than when on; he was always on the lookout for something or someone that needed his attention.

He mostly saw well-dressed strangers, generally middle-aged and older, standing and chatting in clumps, with some walking around and admiring the building.

It was certainly something to admire. Javert found himself looking around in wonderment at the marble floors, deep red walls adorned with wooden pillars, and high domed ceiling.

Eventually, he spotted Madeleine. He was surrounded by a group of wealthy-looking men and women, and they were chatting animatedly with him.

Dear God, the mayor looked _good_. Javert walked a few paces to get a better view. He wore a lovely cream-coloured suit with a burgundy tie and pocket square, quite similar in shade to the walls of the room, in fact. His stocky and muscular form filled the jacket and pants beautifully, his broad shoulders and chest pushing the fabric’s limits to contain him. The man’s fluffy white hair was combed to perfection, his face was clean shaven, and he wore a polite smile that lit up his face and brought life to his brown eyes and crinkles to their corners.

He only stopped staring in awe when someone bumped into him. He apologized to the stranger and decided to relocate himself to a corner to not be so in the way.

Javert walked towards Madeleine, hoping the clump would clear out of the way soon and he could speak to him. He ended up waiting there patiently for a few minutes, his hands clutched militaristically behind his back. He watched Madeleine, but stopped to look around every so often, hoping to not be caught staring. However, as beautiful as this building’s architecture was, the mayor was more interesting to look at.

He made eye contact with Monsieur Madeleine a moment later, over the shoulder of some short, older man in a navy dress uniform. The mayor’s eyes widened for a moment, and then he smiled. Javert watched as Madeleine politely excused himself from his group and made his way to Javert.

“Good evening, Lieutenant,” Madeleine said as he approached. He held his hand out to shake Javert’s, and the taller man took it.

“Good evening, Monsieur le Maire.”

To Javert’s surprise, Madeleine pulled him closer and kissed Javert on both cheeks. The Lieutenant turned red at the unexpected gesture– he couldn’t remember the time he’d been greeted in such a manner.

The mayor backed away. “You look… very nice.” He smiled sheepishly.

“Oh, thank you. You do as well, Monsieur.” The understatement of the century.

“Your hair looks lovely like this. I never realized it was so long…” Madeleine said, peeking behind Javert’s back. “You really should wear it down more often. Most men – women, even – aren’t blessed with thick, healthy hair like yours. It deserves to be shown off!”

“It is against police rules to have loose, long hair while on active duty. It would be an incredible disadvantage in combat,” Javert explained, attempting to hide his diffidence at Madeleine’s flattery.

“Ah, of course,” the mayor said, “I suppose I already knew that.”

Javert nodded.

Madeleine cleared his throat. “Did you just arrive, Javert?”

“No, I’ve been here for… twenty minutes, perhaps half an hour,” he answered.

The mayor looked slightly ashamed. “Oh, I’m sorry, Javert! I wanted to greet you as soon as you arrived… I didn’t mean to I leave you hanging!”

Javert shook his head. “It’s alright, Monsieur le Maire. You were otherwise engaged.”

Madeleine leaned in a little closer to him. “I didn’t want to be talking to those folks for that long,” he said quietly.” My reasons for wanting to greet you as soon as you came were… slightly selfish, I must admit.” He smirked a little as he straightened again.

Javert mirrored his amused expression. “Ah, of course. Am I such good company?”

“Yes, quite. You don’t congratulate me incessantly or sing my praises as if I’m some kind of hero. Nor do you pester me with questions – personal or professional – that I’d rather not answer.”

“You don’t like being congratulated?” Javert asked.

“No, certainly not to such an extent,” he said. “I am grateful that I’m so appreciated, but I dislike being revered for simply doing my job.”

“Donating so much of your own money as you do to town improvement is more than ‘ _simply doing your job’_ ,” Javert said. “The previous mayor of Montreuil-sur-Mer, for instance, ‘simply did his job’ by preventing this town from degrading further, as I’m sure you remember.”

“Please don’t join the adoring masses, Javert,” Madeleine said jokingly, but with a noticeable trace of earnestness.

“I was simply pointing out that you do far more for this town than required, Monsieur le Maire.”

“You demand that I hold my praises whenever I compliment you on your job,” Madeleine said, gently poking Javert’s chest, “so I expect to be able to ask the same.”

Javert glanced down at the thick, calloused finger touching the centre of his chest. “I don’t benefit the town half as much as you do.”

“I don’t risk my life almost every day to protect its citizens,” he said, prodding Javert yet again.

Javert snorted. “I think you greatly romanticize my job, Monsieur. It’s very rare that I solve some grand Holmsian case. Most days, I sit at my desk and do paperwork, or I patrol the town and break up the occasional drunken argument.”

“That’s more drunken arguments than I have broken up,” Madeleine retorted. He finally removed his finger from Javert’s chest and straightened the Lieutenant’s black tie, which he had perhaps messed up with all his poking.

“I suppose you are correct,” Javert said quietly. He wished he had a witty quip, but with Madeleine paying so much attention to him, nothing even remotely smart came to mind.

He barely noticed the round, older gentleman approaching them. “Excuse the interruption, Monsieur le Maire,” he said. “You are needed in the banquet hall for a sound check.”

“Ah,” Madeleine said, letting go of Javert’s tie, which he had actually rendered slightly off center.  He turned to the man. “Thank you, Pierrot. I’ll be there in a moment.” Pierrot nodded and walked away.

“Well,” he said as he turned back to face Javert, his voice tinged with a sigh. “I have to go again. I’ll see you at dinner, okay?”

The Lieutenant was slightly disappointed. “I’ll see you then, Monsieur.”

“I managed to convince the organizers to seat you at my table,” he said with a smile that was almost sly.

“I imagine that must have been quite the feat,” Javert said, astonished.

“Indeed. But I really wanted–”

“–Monsieur le Maire, I apologize, but you are needed in the banquet hall immediately,” the man from before interrupted.

“Right, of course, my apologies!” he replied. He turned to Javert once more. “I will see you soon.” The mayor momentarily put a hand to Javert’s elbow, as he had done the previous day, and he turned to follow Pierrot to the banquet hall.

Javert watched the man leave, and sighed to himself. He was honoured – and quite honestly surprised – at how fond Madeleine seemed to be of him. He turned to face the wall. There was a large painting of the French countryside which was framed in very shiny metal, and Javert checked his reflection it it. As he’d thought, his tie was veering off to the left. Smiling to himself, he fixed it as best as he could.

“Did you _see_ the mayor?” asked a lady from somewhere in the main hall.

“Yes, I did,” replied another woman. “He looks rather hunky in that suit.”

“He always looks hunky,” the first one said. “He’s just more so this evening.”

Javert watched himself blush in the shiny frame. He certainly wished they wouldn’t talk so in front of him.

“Do you think he’s _actually_ single?” One lady asked the other.

“That’s what I’ve heard, yes.”

“I can’t believe it. I know he doesn’t have a wedding ring, but I find it just unthinkable that he doesn’t have a partner.”

“I know, right? He’s absolutely gorgeous, and the kindest man I’ve ever met. He must have women lined up at his door.”

“I would be in that line if my husband would let me.”

The two women laughed, and Javert clenched his jaw. He turned around to look at them. Both of them were middle aged women dressed lavishly in long gowns. One was blonde and one was a brunette.

“Maybe he just hasn’t found the right woman yet…” The brunette said.

“Perhaps. I wonder who the right woman is. He must have impossible standards.”

“I’ve heard rumours that there’s no right woman for him, that he’s… differently inclined.”

“You don’t mean to say… He’s gay?” The blonde asked incredulously.

“I’ve heard a rumour,” the other woman said. “I don’t know if it’s true, but Madame Lamarche told me that that Monsieur Madeleine has been growing increasingly fond of that one policeman, what’s his name… That ridiculously tall gypsy fellow who always lurks around, scowling?”

“Lieutenant Javert?! No!”

Javert’s eyes widened to the size of saucers and his mouth went dry.

“I know, I know, it sounds bizarre, but she was adamant.”

“She’s probably just spreading rumours so that she can have him all to herself,” the blonde joked, and the both of them laughed again.

Javert felt the sudden need to get some fresh air. He hastened to the other side of the main hall and out the large wooden doors. Thankfully, there was a small gathering of people out in the front, so Javert wouldn’t seem out of place as he brooded.

It couldn’t be…

Javert, being a silent and watchful man, was accustomed to hearing town gossip, including about Monsieur Madeleine. He wasn’t even a stranger to women talking about how handsome the mayor was. But this was something altogether unknown to him.

Could it possibly be true? Could Madeleine be…

No, no. This was only a rumour, nothing more. Even if he was gay – which was already unlikely enough – there was no chance Madeleine was in any way attracted to ‘a ridiculously tall gypsy fellow who always lurks around, scowling’, as that brunette woman had put it. Javert was unsightly and far too rigid to ever be loved.

Javert sat on the step and gazed out into the calm of the night. He brought his hands to his lips and absentmindedly chewed his thumbnail.

Part of the Lieutenant wished he had never become friends with Monsieur Madeleine. He had never meant to; he had only wanted to keep an eye on him, never become close to him. He had never before failed so miserably in self-discipline.

But it was getting worse. He tried to deny it to himself daily, but he was finding himself falling in love with the mayor, with his gentleness and good humour, not to mention his well-built muscular physique, perfectly handsome face, warm brown eyes, and gorgeous smile… It was painful. He yearned for the mayor like he had never yearned before, and the affection was making him stupid. He recalled how many times he had stumbled on words while speaking to the mayor because he had grown distracted by his appearance, or how he often modified his patrol routes slightly, causing him to intersect with Madeleine’s afternoon walks.

He remembered how distracted he had become when he first noticed Madeleine had freckles. They were light, and there weren’t many of them, so one had to be fairly close to notice them. But there were great clusters of them on his nose and the apples of his cheeks, and they dotted the rest of his face as well, climbing down his neck, and Javert had accidentally imagined himself kissing those cheeks and that nose and that neck…

Javert was blushing. He rubbed his face with his hands, attempting to bring himself back to reality. It was foolish. He was an idiot, and he was doing nothing but embarrassing himself in front of the mayor. Javert wondered if the other man ever believed when Javert attributed his flustered nature to a lack of sleep, to stress, or to a scattered mind. He wondered if Madeleine could see right through those lies and knew the true cause of Javert’s shameful behaviour.

Some time later, Javert saw the same man by the entrance who was there earlier, and he was escorting the partygoers inside, announcing that it was almost dinnertime. Javert got up and followed the others into the hall once again.

Inside, he watched the crowd funnel in through more ornate wooden doors that were closed earlier. He assumed this was the banquet hall.

When he entered, he was astounded by how beautiful it was. The floor was shiny tile and the walls were adorned with many more paintings, and the ceiling here was very high, too. It was decorated especially for the event, with flowers and ornate curtains. There were many small tables set up in the area, each one with an extravagant floral centerpiece. The Lieutenant made his way around the tables, wondering where he was to sit. He noticed that there were six golden place markers at each table, each one displaying a name in elegant calligraphic font. He began seeking his own assigned seat.

He couldn’t find it anywhere, and was beginning to believe he had been forgotten, until he reached the table closest to the dance floor and stage at the front of the hall. He saw a place marker for ‘Jean Madeleine’, and remembered how the mayor had told him they were placed at the same table. He assumed his name would be here.

Sadly, he was not placed directly beside the mayor. In fact, he was on the exact opposite side of the table from him… That was, assuming the place marker designating “Lieutenant Temmistoque Jevers” was meant to be for him. He raised an eyebrow, sighing. He wished he knew who was responsible for the such a butchering of his name.

“Javert! Is this the place they’ve assigned you?” Came Madeleine’s voice from the direction of the stage. The Lieutenant looked up and saw the mayor walking towards him, a customary grin on his face.

“No, I believe this seat is intended for my alter ego,” Javert joked, gesturing at the place marker.

Madeleine leaned slightly over the table, squinting at the card. “What on–” he looked incredibly confused. “Oh, goodness, Javert, I’m so sorry! How could they mess up your name like this?”

“Don’t apologize, Monsieur le maire, it is no problem. I still recognize it as mine.” After a moment he looked to Madeleine, who was shaking his head at the name card. “Barely,” the Lieutenant added quietly.

“This is not okay. That’s not your name. That’s alphabet soup!” the mayor exclaimed, gesturing dismissively at the offending card.

Javert chuckled. “I suppose it is reminiscent of a poor starting hand in Scrabble.”

The mayor frowned. He picked up the card, and, upon realizing it was blank on the other side, re-folded it so that the calligraphy was on the inside of the triangle. He fished inside his jacket and retrieved a plain golden pen from an inside pocket. He clicked it open with quite a bit of flair and bent over the table again. He began to write on the blank underbelly of the place marker.

“Lieutenant… Thémistocle… Javert…” he muttered as he wrote in his best cursive. “There we go.”

“Monsieur, you did not have to do that,” Javert said.

The mayor straightened, clicking his pen closed. “I didn’t want such a grievous error to be staring you in the face all dinner. I mean… Now yours doesn’t look as pretty as the rest, but...”

“It’s certainly much neater than your customary handwriting,” the Lieutenant said, smirking a little.

Madeleine laughed, returning the pen to its pocket. “This is true.”

The both of them looked at the correctly spelled name card for a moment.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, Javert, about your name. It’s quite beautiful, and I don’t recall ever hearing it before I met you.”

Javert flushed a little. “Oh.. Thank you, Monsieur.”

“Does it have a specific origin?”

“It is a Francization of the ancient Greek name Themistocles.”

“Ah, I see. Do you have Greek heritage, then?”

Javert looked back to Madeleine, who was studying him closely. “Not as far as I know.”

“I didn’t think so. You don’t look Greek to me. Did your parents simply… Enjoy Greek names?”

Javert shook his head. “No. Thémistocle isn’t my birth name. I chose it myself when I legally changed my name at eighteen.”

“Ah, I see,” the mayor said, nodding. “Do _you_ simply enjoy Greek names, then?”

“I was fascinated by Ancient Greece when I was in high school, as I was very interested in their judicial system. I came across the Athenian general and politician Themistocles, but I chose to name myself the way I did more for the meaning than the namesake.”

“Ah, I see! Themis is their god of the law, right?” Madeleine asked, rubbing his chin.

“Goddess, yes. And Themistocles means ‘glory of the law’.” Javert looked away once again. When he’d chosen the name, he was eighteen and did not realize how such a name would be rather silly on a grown man.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Monsieur Madeleine smiling. “That’s very fitting, for someone so devoted to the law.”

“A little _too_ fitting,” Javert replied. “And quite impractical. As we’ve seen today, it’s quite difficult to spell. I have grown to wish I’d chosen something less… Bizarre. Cringeworthy.”

“Oh, don’t say that!” Madeleine said, placing a hand on Javert’s back. The Lieutenant stiffened slightly in shock. “I think Thémistocle is a lovely name. It’s sophisticated and interesting. Like you.”

Javert looked at him, cheeks hot. The man was close, touching him with his steady, calloused hand. “Monsieur–”

The mayor suddenly pulled away. “Ah, Monsieur et Madame Levesque! Welcome!” He moved to great the older couple, shaking the hand of the man and kissing the woman on both cheeks. “Did you find the table alright?”

“It was a little difficult, to be honest,” the gentleman said. “There were so many tables…”

“Certainly, yes. It’s amazing to see such a crowd!” Madeleine said. Javert smirked to himself– he’d noticed long ago the man’s ability to spin any negative comment to a positive.

A moment later, Madeleine turned back to Javert. “I’d like to introduce to you my good friend, Lieutenant Javert,” he said, gesturing.

Oh, he was a _good friend_ now?

“How do you do, Lieutenant?” greeted the man, extending his hand to Javert. They shook for a moment.

“Javert, this is Bernard and Sylvie Levesque. They are the generous folks who donated the most to the building of Levesque Hall.”

Javert opted to shake hands with the wife as well, not very fond of cheek kissing– except, of course, when Madeleine had done it earlier. “Good to meet you both,” he said.

“And here’s Conseillère Belleville,” Madeleine said. Two women, perhaps in their thirties, approached the table. One – a tall, thin black woman with wild curly hair – Javert recognized as a city councillor. Madeleine greeted her as well. The Lieutenant didn’t quite recognize the shorter, quieter white lady who stood almost in her shadow.

“And you must be the councillor’s wife?” Madeleine asked the other woman.

“Yes, I’m Dr. Belleville,” she said with a polite smile. “Lovely to meet you.” They kissed as well. Javert found himself jealous of all this kissing.

The Levesques and Javert greeted the Bellevilles as well, and soon, they sat down at the table.

Javert was, as he’d already discovered,  at the very opposite end of the table from the mayor. The outrageous floral centerpiece was partially blocking his view of Madeleine. Conseillère Belleville was on the mayor’s right, and her wife was next to Javert. Madame Levesque was on Javert’s other side, leaving Monsieur Levesque next to Monsieur Madeleine.

The councillor, the mayor, and the donors talked about issues they had faced and overcome during the planning and construction of the hall. Javert already felt incredibly out of place, and felt stuck between wishing he was sitting next to the mayor and wishing he was elsewhere entirely.

Soon enough, a pitcher of water, glasses, and a basket of bread were brought to the tables by the caterers. This interrupted the conversation, thankfully. The server took drink orders from the table – red wine all around, save Madeleine, who ordered tomato juice instead. Javert had never understood how anyone could like tomato juice.

“At last! I’m starving,” the mayor said, once the server had left, arranging his napkin on his lap. The rest of the table followed suit, except Madame Levesque, who for some reason stuck the napkin down the front of her dress like some kind of barbarian.

Javert took a sip of his water – it was too cold and it hurt his teeth. The bread basket was being passed around the table, and when Madame Levesque passed it to him, he handed it directly to Dr. Belleville.

“You’re not having bread, Lieutenant? It’s very good,” Monsieur Madeleine asked.

“Oh, no. Gluten tends to disagree with me,” Javert explained.

The mayor nodded in understanding. “Well, there are two options on the menu tonight that are gluten free,” he said, “so bread will be all you miss out on.”

“You know,” butted in Madame Levesque, “I think this whole gluten-free thing is nothing but a silly fad.”

Javert raised his eyebrows. He turned to face her, and caught out of his periphery the sight of Madeleine looking quite uncomfortable. “What do you mean?”

“When I was younger,” she started, tearing into her bread, “no one was ‘gluten-free’. No one had anything against bread. Plus, there are no real health benefits to giving up gluten, according to science.”

“You are correct that, to the average person, gluten poses no problems. However, many people such as myself cannot properly digest gluten.”

“That’s nonsense. You’re just following a fad. I understand; my daughter’s on that keto diet now. It’s human nature to fall for stuff like that.”

Javert opened his mouth to respond, but the server from before had returned with small, elegant menus, which she placed in front of each of the six occupants of the table. She informed them that their drinks would arrive soon. The Lieutenant caught an apologetic look from Madeleine.

Javert looked down at the menu. It had, as the mayor had said, four options. There were breaded pork chops with a broccoli salad, a vegetarian stir fry, a steak with a side of asparagus, and linguine with a carrot salad. Oh dear.

Javert, of course, couldn’t have the pork chops or the pasta. The problem was, he absolutely detested tofu – which the stir fry featured heavily – and he was no more keen on asparagus. He stared at the menu, wishing another option would magically appear.

The two couples at the table decided amongst themselves what they would order. Javert wished he could have Madeleine eat the tofu or asparagus out of his dish for him, saving him the horror of eating it himself.

Thankfully, when the drinks arrived, the Levesques requested more time to decide, so Javert could carry on weighing his options, now with a very welcome glass of wine.

“Have you made a choice yet, Lieutenant?” Madeleine asked, talking around the centerpiece.

“Not yet,” Javert admitted. “Have you?”

“Well, yes, seeing as I’m a vegetarian, there’s only one option suited to me,” he said, smiling a little.

“You’re a vegetarian!?” piped up Madame Levesque, who seemed to care quite a bit about people’s dietary choices. “Whatever for?”

The mayor shrugged. “I’m quite fond of nature and the lives of animals. Besides, I never cared for the taste of meat much.”

“Real men eat meat. And bread, for that matter,” countered the older lady.

Dr. and Conseillère Belleville did not seem pleased at all with this statement. Madeleine, for his part, seemed quite ashamed and very eager to put a stop to what was going on.

“Speaking of meat... if it helps your choice at all, Lieutenant, the steak comes from locally raised, organic-fed cattle,” Madeleine said.

Javert couldn’t care less, but he pretended to, as he understood that the comment was more an effort at salvaging the conversation than anything else. “I see. Very good.”

That damned lady scoffed. “Why does it matter what the cows ate? A cow is a cow!”

Madeleine looked at Javert with an expression that clearly spelled out _help._

The Lieutenant put down his menu. “Well, I’ve made my decision. Do we see our server anywhere?” He began to look around.

Consillière Belleville managed to politely make the waitress aware that they were ready to order. Javert settled for the steak and the – _shudder_ – asparagus.

Madeleine turned the conversation to matters that would not set Madame Levesque off on some tirade – mostly, again, to do with the planning of the event and the building of the hall, or about her life in general. Conseillière Belleville participated in the conversation noticeably less than before, more than likely put off by the strange old woman.

When the food arrived, the conversation changed to the taste of the food. Everyone was satisfied – even Javert, who was eating only the steak for the moment. Everyone except, unsurprisingly, Madame Levesque. She thought her pasta was too chewy, berated the poor server, and had it sent back. When a second plate arrived, she gave no thanks to the waitress. Madeleine looked ashamed enough to almost make up for her lack of manners and her husband’s utter apathy to the whole situation.

At this point, the conseillère and her wife began talking amongst themselves, no longer tolerating the old woman, and this left Madeleine with one less defense against her as she complained further about the service at the event.

Javert was more focused on how he had now finished his steak and was now faced with a pile of asparagus, looking repulsive as anything despite the garnish. He refilled his water glass with the pitcher on the table. Perhaps with enough water and wine, he would be able to stand the disgusting little veggies.

Conversation became sparse, uncomfortable, and incredibly careful. After a few excruciating minutes, Madeleine resorted to: “Lovely weather we’ve been having lately, don’t you think?”

Javert was on his third glass of water. This strategy was working, to a certain extent.

“Indeed,” Madame Levesque said. “It has been gorgeous. Bernard and I have been taking strolls by the docks almost every day. Never _on_ the docks, though, of course! It seems the scum of humanity resides there!”

“I enjoy walking by the docks, too!” Madeleine said, attempting to backpedal.

Javert watched, gulping down more water in a futile attempt to dilute the asparagus taste lingering on his tongue.

“Are you even attempting to control the crime there, officer?” The old lady asked.

Javert put down his glass of water. It was empty again.

“Of course. My officers and I do our best to attend to every problem, and we are aware of the crime hotspot that is the docks,” he said, his voice level.

“If this is your best, you need to do better!” she demanded, a bit of pasta sauce flying from her lips with her vigour. “You know, just the other day, a _beggar_ approached me by the docks and had the _gall_ to ask me for my hard-earned money!”

Javert blinked at her, downing his wine in a last-ditch attempt to cover the asparagus. “I don’t understand the problem, Madame.”

“‘ _I don’t understand the problem!’”_ she repeated in a mocking tone. “A beggar _harassed_ me, that’s what! A filthy subhuman little–”

“–Unfortunately for you, merely asking for money is neither harassment, nor a crime. If you believe you were, in fact, harassed, I invite you to make a formal report at the police station.”

This old hag was almost as bitter as the asparagus-wine taste on Javert’s tongue. Thankfully, the outrageous amount of fluids he had consumed gave him an easy excuse to be rid of her. Javert tucked his cloth napkin beside his plate and stood. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He pushed his chair in and made his way out of the banquet hall.

Good thing there were washrooms nearby, as he felt his bladder was about to explode. He entered the men’s washroom. He, unfortunately, had to wait in line for a minute or so. Javert situated himself at a urinal that wasn’t directly next to anyone else. Irritatingly, he’d been the last in line and suddenly the bathroom was becoming emptier. He began to take what felt like the longest piss of his life, and the relief was immense. After a moment, Javert heard someone storm into the bathroom.

“Javert, Are you–?” Madeleine stopped suddenly as he noticed what Javert was doing.

Javert’s piss stream faltered as he made eye contact with the mayor.

“Oh, s-sorry,” Madeleine said, blushing, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay after what Madame Levesque said to you…”

“I couldn’t care less about what she had to say to me or about me. She’s obviously a sour old crone. I just… really needed to relieve myself.”

Madeleine looked away. “Ah, I see. So it didn’t… It didn’t hurt your feelings at all, then?”

The Lieutenant scoffed. “‘Hurt my feelings’?! For goodness’ sake, Monsieur. It would take a lot more than an entitled millionaire's ranting to hurt me.”

“Good to know.” Madeleine walked further into the bathroom and stood at a urinal a metre or so to Javert’s right. The bathroom was empty, now. Javert heard the rustle of clothes and Madeleine unzip his fly. He tried to force his shy bladder into action again.

“Since I know she won’t apologize,” Madeleine said, over the sound of his urinating, “I will. I’m sorry for the idiotic things she said.”

Javert blushed a little. The last time he’d had a conversation with another man while both of their cocks were out, it wasn’t anything like this. “I accept your apology, but I don’t forgive her.” An uneven stream finally recommenced.

“I don’t either. What a rude, conceited old witch. After you left, she started going off about ‘trends’ again, and how the Conseillère and her wife are following the, quote-unquote, ‘trend of homosexuality’. And to think I have to give a speech thanking her and her husband for their donations to the creation of this hall, which is named after them.”

Javert finally felt he was done. He readjusted himself, shaking his head. He flushed the urinal. “Unfortunate.” He made his way to the sinks, careful to not look at the mayor on his way by.

“I know. I wish I could forgo it altogether. But that’s also because I hate giving speeches.”

Javert began to wash his hands. “Really? Why did you choose a career in politics, then?” The mirror gave him an unfortunate view of Madeleine, having finished at the urinal, fixing his belt. Javert looked down at his hands.

He heard a flush, and soon, the mayor was next to him, washing his hands as well. “As you know, Lieutenant, the career in politics chose me. Besides, I don’t have to give that many speeches. It’s mostly meetings, paperwork, and more meetings.”

Javert finished washing his hands and used the nearest hand dryer. “Of course,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the rushing air.

“I get so nervous to talk in front of all these people,” Madeleine admitted, rinsing the soap off his hands. He turned off the sink and followed Javert to the hand dryers.

“Do you, now? You never seem nervous when I see you give speeches.” Javert returned to the sinks, checking his reflection in the mirror. He pulled a foldable comb out of his jacket pocket and proceeded to detangle his hair.

“I try my best to seem confident,” Madeleine said. “But I keep sweating like crazy…” He unbuttoned his jacket – Javert realized he was wearing _suspenders_ and that made his eyes widen a little – and checked under his arm. “Oh, dear. At least I didn’t sweat through my jacket. I’ve done that before.” He did up his buttons again, and adjusted his jacket, hair, tie, and pocket square. He watched Javert comb his hair with fascination. The two men’s eyes met in the mirror.

“I must apologize for staring, Lieutenant, it’s just that I’m unused to seeing your hair like this.”

“It’s alright. I much prefer the kind of stare you’re giving me than what I usually get.”

“People don’t… Dislike your hair, do they?” Madeleine asked incredulously.

“Of course they do,” Javert answered. “Men with long hair are always deemed foreign, effeminate, hippyish, or all of the above.”

“I think men with long hair and handsome, elegant, and timeless,” the other man said.

Javert coloured pink at the implied compliment. “You are in a minority– a growing one, but still a minority.” He untangled a final knot and replaced his comb in his pocket. He checked that every item of his clothing was in its proper place.

“Javert, may I ask a favour of you?” Madeleine asked.

“Of course, Monsieur le Maire,” the Lieutenant replied. He decided his appearance was passable, and what wasn’t up to par was something he wouldn’t be able to change.

“This is admittedly a very odd request, but I really don’t have anyone else to ask for this…” said Monsieur Madeleine, turning pink. “Uh, would you… Would you smell me? Just to make sure I don’t– You know. Just to be sure. I think I smell okay, but– I want to know for certain, if you don’t mind.”

Javert’s cheeks and neck flushed. “Alright.” He leaned over until his nose was an inch or so away from the shorter man’s shoulder. He sniffed, and his nose was instantly filled with the subtle scent of the mayor’s cologne, mixed with a little of what he assumed to be the man’s natural body odour– though ‘odour’ was hardly an applicable term in this case. Fragrance, perhaps, or aroma… It was incredibly attractive and honestly delicious. “I think…” He inhaled again, almost lightheaded with Madeleine’s alluring smell. “You smell fine, Monsieur.” _You smell sexy._

The mayor sighed. “That’s a relief! I’m going to be dancing, later, and I would hate for my reputation to be ruined by smelling bad!”

Javert straightened. Right, the dancing. He wondered how many lucky women would have the joy of pressing up to that broad and muscled figure, seeing that handsome face with those freckles and that smile up close, and getting a noseful of his irresistible scent.

“I wouldn’t worry about your reputation at all, Monsieur Madeleine.”

He smiled. “Thank you so much, Javert,” he said, once again touching the Lieutenant’s arm. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’re most welcome. I try to help wherever I can.”

“And I appreciate that very much.” He began to leave the washroom. Javert followed closely behind.

When they re-entered the banquet hall, desserts had already been served. “I think it’s almost time for my speech,” the mayor said, nerves apparent in his voice.

“Well, good luck, Monsieur,” Javert said. “Remember to speak kindly of the donors.”

Madeleine smirked at Javert, who returned a similar expression. “Thanks, Lieutenant. I will do my best.”

The mayor made his way across the hall towards the stage, and Javert stayed out of the way, strongly preferring solitude to returning to the table for the company of Madame Levesque.

Although, of course, he’d most prefer the company of the mayor. This gala was causing his feelings for the man to get stronger at an exponential rate, and he found himself absolutely head over heels. Javert’s heart was light and there were butterflies in his stomach and all he could think clearly about was Madeleine, and his smile and his freckles and his suit and his suspenders and his compliments and how he smelled so damn appealing.

A few minutes later, the event coordinator, Pierrot, made his way onto the stage and to the lectern at the front of it. “Ladies and gentleman, may I have your attention please,” he started over the din of conversation in the hall. The voices began to fade, and the man waited for relative silence before continuing.

“I hope you are all enjoying the festivities. I would like to take a moment as we enjoy our desserts to acknowledge why we are gathered here on this fine evening. As we all know, Montreuil-sur-Mer has never had an event hall such as this one, nor has it ever had a need for one. This all changed due to the benevolence and action of several generous individuals and organizations. Of course, one of these individuals is our beloved mayor. I would like to invite him to the stage to speak. Please give a warm welcome to Maire Jean Madeleine.”

The hall erupted in applause and cheering as Monsieur Madeleine took the stage, accompanied by several camera flashes, a wide grin on his face as he waved to the audience. Once he made it to the podium, the audience began to settle down, and the mayor reached to adjust the microphone for his height. The speakers shrieked with feedback, causing Madeleine to cringe, and a murmur of displeasure passed over the crowd.

“My apologies,” Madeleine said. “I did not intend to demonstrate improper handling of sound equipment, but I suppose it’s always time to learn– never cover the mic with your hand, folks.”

Laughter ensued for a few seconds, restoring the mayor’s smile.

“I know we are all eager to get back to the party, so I will keep this brief. I would like to thank the donors who contributed so much to the building of Levesque Hall –”

Madeleine listed various companies and individuals, which Javert cared very little about. He eventually got to the Levesques, and he succeeded in saying nothing negative, though he did not sing Madame Levesque’s praises as much as he generally would. He presented the old couple a plaque with their names on it, which would be fastened at the front entrance of the hall. Many photos were taken, and no one bothered to tell Madame Levesque she had a bit of chocolate icing at the corner of her mouth.

After this, the mayor acknowledged the catering, event planning, and security services, as well as the jazz musicians who had been playing live music throughout dinner and would continue to do so throughout the dancing – though Javert noticed a couple artists packing up, and new ones arriving. The Lieutenant supposed it would be incredibly strenuous to play for so many hours straight.

Finally, the mayor’s speech came to a close, and he announced that dancing would begin within fifteen minutes. More applause and cheers, more camera flashes, and Madeleine was at last free to leave the stage.

The caterers returned to take away empty cups, dirty utensils, and dessert plates; and people began to mill about again.

Madeleine was near the stage, being congratulated by several of the important people from before. During a slight break in the conversation, the mayor made eye contact with Javert, who was several metres away. Madeleine smiled, and then displayed a thumbs up and thumbs down with a questioning expression. Javert smiled back, nodding, and returning a thumbs up. Monsieur Madeleine grinned and mimed wiping away a drop of sweat– then he was pulled back into congratulations.

“Hello again, Javert!” Came Chabouillet’s voice.

“Good evening, Monsieur le Commissaire,” he replied, turning to his senior officer.

“I was expecting to see you at my table or nearby, with the other police officers. Where were you?”

“I was at the mayor’s table, Monsieur Chabouillet,” Javert replied.

“The mayor’s table?!” he asked incredulously. “You must be quite the guest of honour! You and he are very close then, are you?”

Javert shrugged. “I suppose so, yes. I was surprised, too. I knew we were friends, but… I hadn’t known he thought so highly of me.”

Chabouillet chuckled. “I see. So how was it? I assume you were seated with the donors and such?”

“I must admit I felt quite out of place at that table.”

“Oh? Were they too posh for you?”

Lieutenant Javert looked around. The Levesques were over by Madeleine, out of earshot. “In strict confidence, Monsieur,” he said quietly, “Madame Levesque is by the most insufferably entitled bitch – if you’ll excuse my language – that I have ever had the misfortune of eating dinner with.”

Chabouillet smirked. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me. She strikes me as a – if you’ll excuse my language in return – a cunt.”

Javert nodded. “That’s the best way to describe her, yes.”

“Well? What did she do? In strict confidence, of course.”

At this point, the band was tuning and checking microphones. There appeared to be both a male and female singer, a pianist, a guitarist, a bassist, a drummer, a saxophonist, and a violinist.

“She told us that the mayor’s vegetarianism and my gluten-free diet are mere ‘trends’, and that real men eat meat and bread. I had to restrain myself from explaining to her that if I didn’t partake in the ‘gluten-free trend’, I’d be violently shitting myself at the table.”

The older man guffawed. “Oh, Lord. So you and the mayor aren’t real, men, in her eyes?”

“No, I suppose not. Then she proceeded to be generally disagreeable, forcing the mayor, Conseillère Belleville, and her wife – who were also at the table – to stick to bland conversation topics that revolved solely around her, and just stroke her ego, essentially. When her dinner was served, she was an ass to our waitress and sent her food back though it seemed perfectly fine.”

“Of course. What did her husband have to say about all of this?”

“Nothing. It seemed he didn’t give a shit about his wife’s behaviour.”

Chabouillet rolled his eyes. “No surprise there. Was that it, then?”

“No, she kept going about the service for a bit, and when the mayor tried to get her to talk about the weather, she managed to start complaining about the level of crime at the docks, and she told me she was disappointed in the police force here.”

The Superintendent’s jaw dropped. “She didn’t! What did you say?!”

“I told her that we do our best to attend to every problem, including the ongoing one of the docks. She then told me that someone there asked her for money once – which she, of course, considered harassment – and she told me that the poor are ‘subhuman scum’ and should be arrested for, well, being poor, it seems.”

The other man shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Dear God. And you went off on her, I presume?”

“No, Monsieur le Commissaire,” Javert assured him. “I told her that asking for money is not a crime, and that if she has any official complains, that she should take them to the station.”

“Then?”

“Then I left to take a leak. Only my body language told her to go fuck herself.”

Chabouillet smiled and clapped Javert on the shoulder once again. “Good man! Don’t give her anything to work with.”

The Lieutenant nodded. “She wasn’t worth my breath to insult her to her face.”

The band started their first song, a slow, instrumental tune. Some people were already making their way to the dance floor.

“Monsieur Madeleine told me,” Javert said, “that after I left, our lovely donor told the Conseillère and her wife that they are only following, and I quote, the ‘trend of homosexuality’.”

Chabouillet blinked. “Wow. What a colossal airhead. Sounds like she needs to follow the trend of shutting the fuck up. Madeleine must be pissed – or at least as close to pissed as that man can get.”

Javert nodded. “He is, yes. And incredibly ashamed. He already apologized to me on her behalf, and I’m sure he has apologized to the Bellevilles as well, or will do so as soon as possible.”

An older lady, whom Javert recognized as Madame Chabouillet, approached them, holding two champagne flutes.

“Why are you two standing so far out of the way?” she asked her husband. “I’ve been searching up and down for you, and I don’t think anyone’s ever spent this long looking for a man of the Lieutenant’s height and a man of your size.”

“I’m not fat, I’m–” he started to defend himself, but was cut off by his wife holding one of the glasses of champagne out to him.

“Here, I bought this for you.”

“Oh, thank you, dear. They opened the bar?”

“Yes, they did. It’s over there,” she said, pointing to the other end of the banquet hall.

“So, guess where our Javert was during dinner?” Chabouillet started, taking a small sip of his champagne.

“Where?” she asked, turning to the Lieutenant.

“At the mayor’s table,” he revealed.

“Really! You must be quite close to Monsieur Madeleine, then?” Julie Chabouillet asked, impressed.

“That’s what I said!” exclaimed her husband, “But apparently, this came as a total surprise to him.”

“It is only that I underestimated how…” Javert searched for words. “I did not realize he thought of me as a close friend, to put it simply.”

Madame Chabouillet smiled. “Perhaps you should keep that on the downlow. You wouldn’t want the rumour mill to catch wind of that.”

Javert furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

“Well, some nosy pokes in this town are circulating that the good mayor is – shall we say… Interested in you, Lieutenant Javert.”

He blushed. That’s exactly what he’d heard before… “What? That’s– No, surely not.”

Chabouillet shook his head. “Julie, you shouldn’t have told him that! People will gossip no matter what, and it’ll only make him worried about nothing.”

“But if he’s aware, dear, he can avoid doing accidentally validating the rumour!”

“Yes, thank you for telling me, Madame. I’d rather know if there are stories going around about me,” Javert said sincerely.

“You’re most welcome,” she said, nudging her husband slightly, who rolled his eyes.

Suddenly, a man bumped into the Commissaire, making him almost spill his champagne. Both parties realized it was an accident and apologized.

“Perhaps let’s move to a table by the dance floor,” suggested Madame Chabouillet. “It looks like they’ve gotten rid of the place markers, so we can sit wherever we want and be out of the way.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Monsieur Chabouillet, nodding.

“I’ll go get myself something from the bar,” Javert said.

“Okay! Feel free to join us after,” the Chief Superintendent said.

Javert walked over to where he believed the bar to be, pondering the significance of the rumour regarding himself and Madeleine. It was obviously nothing but a rumour, however… It would be so nice if it were true.

He bought himself a whiskey at the bar and was making his way towards the dance floor to find the Chabouillets when he heard his name being called.

He noticed Conseillère and Dr. Belleville at a nearby table, with the Conseillère waving at him. He made his way over to them.

“Are you alright after what happened?” the city councillor asked once he was in earshot.

“Yes, I am. Contrary to what you may believe, I simply had to use the restroom and did not run away to lick my wounded ego.”

The two women laughed. “I’m glad to hear.”

“Are you both alright, as well?” Javert returned, figuring such a question would be polite.

“Yes, though quite…” the councillor trailed off.

“Pissed,” finished her wife, her lips against her cocktail glass.

“I was trying to use a more polite word, but yes.”

“I have no need to hear polite words,” Javert assured them. “I would gladly use an assortment of impolite ones to describe our dear donor.”

Conseillère Belleville smirked. She tapped the table beside her. “Sit down. I have more to tell you about her.”

Javert supposed the Chabouillets could wait. “Certainly.” He pulled out a chair next to the woman and sat, placing his whiskey in front of him.

“After you left to, uh, not nurse your bruised ego, she told Monique and I that… What was it she said our relationship is following?”

“‘The trend of homosexuality,’” quoted Dr. Belleville and Lieutenant Javert in unison.

“Ah, so you already know?” the councillor pointed out, taking her sip from her glass of whiskey.

“Yes,” Javert confirmed. “Monsieur Madeleine told me about it when he apologized to me on her behalf. He was quite.. Unhappy about it.”

“Yeah. He apologized to us, too. But it’s not his apology Isolde and I want,” Monique Belleville said.

Javert took a drink. “What do you want?” He put down his glass. “It’s not like she’ll apologize.”

“We know,” the doctor said. “But we’d like some form of… consequences for her.”

Javert smirked. “That would be lovely, yes. But I’m afraid not much can be done. If you want me to do something, being a jackass is, regrettably, not something one can be arrested for.”

“Not you, no. I was just hoping Madeleine would do something,” said the councillor.

“He can’t exactly expose her in front of a gathering of people in a hall she paid for,” Javert said, tracing his fingers over the condensation on his glass.

“No, but he can choose to rename the hall,” Isolde Belleville said.

Javert snorted. “You’re kidding.”

“Not at all,” she assured him. “Monsieur Madeleine donated more money than they did, so this building should rightfully be named Madeleine hall, anyway.”

“That would be a lovely little slap in the wrist,” Javert agreed, “but wouldn’t that be more trouble than it’s worth?”

“I don’t think you realize how angry the mayor is,” Monique Belleville interjected. She picked up her cocktail glass again. “He’s deeply offended by what she said, especially about the police force and about mine and Isolde’s marriage.”

“Especially since I’m quite sure he’s gay himself,” the councillor added.

Javert blushed yet again. “Now, those are just rumours.”

Isolde Belleville shrugged. “Maybe, but I have a preeeetty strong gut feeling.”

“Why so?” Javert said, sipping his drink.

“Mostly the fact that he shows zero interest in dating women, and how passionate he is about LGBT rights,” Conseillère Belleville explained.

“That’s not proof,” Javert said, more to pacify himself than the woman.

“No, but it’s a hunch I have,” she admitted.

“If he is gay, then… Madame Levesque said something homophobic to a table of four gay people,” Javert mused.

“You, too?” the doctor asked.

“Yes.”

The three of them laughed heartily at this for a moment.

“I guess I should have guessed, what with the way you look at the mayor,” Monique said, once again into her cocktail glass.

Javert turned red. “What do you mean, ‘the way I look at the mayor’?”

“Oh, we’ve caught you now,” the councillor joked. “You’re red as a freshly spanked ass.”

Javert’s colour only deepened at the image these words conjured in his mind. “Shut up.”

The two wives laughed. “Okay, we’ll leave you alone,” said Isolde. “We’ve extracted all the evidence we need, anyway.”

Javert was incredibly disgruntled. “This is unnecessarily cruel,” he said, grabbing his glass and standing. The Chabouillets wouldn’t tease him so.

“Yes, run along to the mayor, now!” Dr. Belleville called after him, causing another uproar of laughter between them.

Scowling and embarrassed, Javert searched for the Commissaire and his wife. He soon spotted them at a table which was right next to the dance floor, where, at this point, many people had gathered. The Lieutenant walked to the table.

“There you are! We’d thought you’d gotten lost!” Monsieur Chabouillet exclaimed.

“I only stopped to chat,” Javert explained, sitting down.

“With whom?”

“Conseillère and Dr. Belleville.”

“Ah. I assume you three commiserated with each other on what happened with you-know-who?”

“Precisely.”

“Alphonse told me about what… You-know-who said,” Madame Chabouillet said. “I am appalled, truly. What disgusting behaviour.”

“Indeed,” Javert replied into his glass. He was reminding himself of Dr. Monique Belleville.

“Anyway,” the Chief Superintendent started, “I’m sure you don’t want to think about that old hag any longer. You wanna know something funny? Julie, tell Lieutenant Javert  about what happened on the dance floor,” he said, nudging his wife.

She laughed. “Oh, yes! Lieutenant, it was hysterical. So Monsieur Madeleine, who has been absent for a bit, finally came onto the dance floor. And you should have seen the commotion he caused!”

“It seemed like every woman in this hall wanted to dance with him,” Chabouillet took over, gesturing with his near-empty champagne glass. “It was like Justin Bieber just walked into a middle school dance.”

“He had to calm them all down and assure them he’d switch partners often,” Julie interjected. “Look at him now, over there–” she said, pointing. “This must be the third or fourth lady he’s danced with.”

Javert followed her finger and saw the mayor who was indeed dancing with a middle-aged woman, swaying back and forth to the jazz music. He felt envy rear its ugly head in his gut as he saw how close their bodies were. Madeleine’s hand rested on the woman’s waist and she clung to him closer than she had any right to. He saw her face, too; how she smiled and looked at him with bright eyes filled with light.

“Javert? You don’t think it’s funny?” Chabouillet asked.

“No, not one bit,” Javert nearly spat. “The mayor shouldn’t have to dance with strangers, passing himself along like a used toy.”

The couple looked confused. “He wants to dance with them. No one’s forcing him.”

Javert scowled. He wanted to dance with them, eh? “I suppose.”

The Chabouillets said nothing else on the matter, likely put off by Javert’s sudden foulness.

The song ended, and there was applause.

“Shall we dance, my dear?” Julie Chabouillet asked her husband.

The Commissaire smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.” The two of them stood.

“We’ll be back when our old knees inevitably get tired,” Monsieur Chabouillet said to Javert as they walked to the dance floor. He and his wife both laughed at the comment.

Javert only nodded. He was more focused on the mayor, who, sure enough, was surrounded by several women who were apparently vying for his attention. Javert watched as Madeleine negotiated, and selected one lady as his next partner as the next, slow song started. The Lieutenant recognized her as the blonde lady he’d heard gossipping at the start of the evening. His scowl only deepened.

 _You kissed me once by mistake_ _  
_ _Thought I was somebody else_

It was the female singer at the microphone. She was quite good, Javert thought, but what a strange beginning to a song.

 _I felt that kiss and I envied_   
_That somebody else_   
_I wanted you for myself_   
_I guess I was shameless and bold_   
_But I made a plan in my heart_ _  
_I've never breathed, I've never told

Javert flushed. He watched Madeleine subtly switch partners to another lady, who beamed with excitement, as the previous one brooded. Javert wished he could insert himself into the lineup and get even a moment in the mayor’s strong arms. He knew how warm the man’s touch was, and he wanted it all for himself.

 _I must try to make the man love me_   
_Make the man love me now_   
_By and by, I'll make the man happy_ _  
_I know how

God, this song was far too à propos. He sipped his whiskey as he stared longingly at the man he desperately wanted. He wished he knew how, actually, to make Madeleine love him, and how to make him happy.

 _He must see how badly I want him_   
_Want him just as he is_   
_May I say that should the man ask me_ _  
_I'll be his

As the mayor switched partners again, he looked over in Javert’s direction and the two of them made eye contact for a fleeting moment. The Lieutenant only darkened. What if Madeleine _could_ see how badly Javert wanted him? He did his utmost to hide his feelings, but if the Bellevilles, who were practically strangers to him, could see right through him… Shit. And Madeleine had just caught him staring.

 _Can I tell the man_   
_Just how dearly blessed we would be?_   
_All the beauty I see so clearly_ _  
_Oh, why can't he?

No, he couldn’t tell the mayor, certainly not! No matter how many ways he’d envisioned himself confessing to Madeleine, none of them would do any good. None of them would end positively. Well, if those rumours and hunches were accurate…

 _So, I pray to heaven above me_   
_Pray until day grows dim_   
_For a way to make the man love me_   
_As I love him_   
_For a way to make the man love me_ _  
_As I love him

The song ended, and there was applause for the band as well as the soloists. Madeleine pulled away from the last woman and once again there was a scramble to be next. It made Javert feel sick.

He couldn’t stand it. He looked down into his whiskey and tried his best not to watch the mayor.

Not looking, however, only made it easier to let his mind wander. As the next song, an instrumental, started, he couldn’t help but think on what it would be like to dance with Monsieur Madeleine. He couldn’t dance, of course, but that was irrelevant in a fantasy such as this one. All that would matter would be his body on Madeleine’s and the smell of the other man surrounding him.

The next song was another vocal tune, this time featuring the male singer.

 _I've got you under my skin_   
_I have got you, deep in the heart of me_   
_So deep in my heart that you're really a part of me_ _  
_I've got you under my skin

Oh, no. Not another song that just happened to perfectly capture his feelings for the other man. No matter how Javert tried to look away, his desire was deep in his bones and in his soul. He looked back up. He saw Chabouillet and his wife dancing together, looking happy as anything. He was jealous of them, too, that they were so happy.

 _I'd tried so, not to give in_   
_I said to myself this affair it never will go so well_   
_But why should I try to resist when baby I know so well_ _  
_I've got you under my skin

Damn this song. He clenched his fist and looked away from the dance floor entirely. There weren’t that many people hanging around in the banquet hall; he supposed most were dancing, or elsewhere entirely. He noticed for the first time the cameraman who was taking the occasional picture of the dance floor or the hall. He noticed some people leaving.  Javert wondered if perhaps he, too, should leave and try to get some peace of mind.

 _I'd sacrifice anything come what might_   
_For the sake of having you near_   
_In spite of a warning voice that comes in the night_ _  
_And repeats, repeats in my ear

 _Don't you know, little fool_   
_You never can win_   
_Use your mentality_   
_Wake up to reality_   
_But each time I do just the thought of you_   
_Makes me stop before I begin_ _  
_'Cause I've got you under my skin

It would be useless, Javert realized, to leave. He’d still be hopelessly pining over Madeleine, whether he was in here, out in the main hall, outside, or at home. He could go anywhere he could think of, but he’d never get rid of this obsession. Maybe he could have, earlier, before it got so bad… But not after everything that had happened this evening. Not anymore. Madeleine was truly under his skin. He downed the rest of his whiskey.

A saxophone solo ensued, and Javert watched the mayor dance with a particularly handsy woman who couldn’t seem to keep her paws in a single position. They rubbed up and down the mayor’s back in a manner altogether inappropriate. What right did she have to touch him so?

Javert stormed off to buy more whiskey. He didn’t want to be drunk, per se, but he needed to have more alcohol in his system than this if he was going to have to see such displays.

He returned to the table just as the song was ending. Madeleine peeled himself away from that disgusting lady (who Javert couldn’t help but relate to on a primal level), and saw Javert. He fought off the hoards and made his way to – no way – straight to Javert’s table!

“May I sit here?” Madeleine asked. He seemed almost desperate.

“Certainly, Monsieur,” answered Javert.

He smiled and sat down next to the Lieutenant. “Thank you. I need a rest.”

“Unsurprising,” Javert said, jealousy warping his tone. “After dancing with half the women in the town.”

The next song was beginning. The male singer was still at the microphone.

Madeleine seemed uncomfortable. “Yes. As much as I like dancing, I can’t help but feel… Well, I wished I wasn’t playing hot potato.”

Javert sipped his whiskey. “You’d like one woman to hog you all night?”

“Or one per song, or a different partner every other song.”

Javert hummed. He wished no one was touching Madeleine.

 _How glad the many millions_   
_Of Annabelles and Lillians_ _  
_Would be, to capture me

“You haven’t been dancing at all?” the mayor asked him.

The Lieutenant scoffed. “Certainly not. I can’t dance, and I don’t want any strange lady to be grappling with me to a love song.”

 _But you had such persistence_   
_You wore down my resistance_ _  
_I fell, and it was swell

Madeleine chuckled. “I think you should try it.”

“I think I should not, Monsieur le Maire.”

“Maybe you’d enjoy it.”

“There’s no way in hell I would.”

 _I'm your big and brave and handsome Romeo_ _  
_ _How I won you I shall never, never know_

“Would you like to call me Jean?” he asked suddenly.

Javert blushed. “I…”

“It feels strange for you to call me ‘Monsieur le Maire’ and ‘Monsieur Madeleine’. We’re friends, are we not? Call me by my first name.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course! Call me Jean, please!” the mayor insisted.

“Alright… Jean,” the Lieutenant tried, the name strangely electrifying on his tongue. The other man smiled.

 _It's not that you’re attractive_   
_But oh, my heart grew active_ _  
_When you came into view

“Thank you. That feels less… stilted,” he said. “And may I call you Thémistocle?”

Javert turned even more red. He tried his best to hide it by taking a drink of whiskey. _No one_ called him by his first name. And yet… it would be lovely. When the other man spoke his name, it sounded sweet, endearing.

Javert gave a shrug in hopes of seeming ambivalent. “If you wish, you may.”

“Only if you would feel comfortable with it, of course,” said the mayor. “I would like to use your first name, but only if you want me to.”

 _I've got a crush on you, sweetie pie_   
_All the day and nighttime, hear me sigh_   
_I never had the least notion_ _  
_That I could fall with so much emotion

“I would like you to use it,” Javert said.

Madeleine, _Jean Madeleine,_ was smiling brightly from ear to ear. “I am glad, Thémistocle.”

 _Could you coo, could you care_   
_For a lovely cottage that we would share_   
_The world will pardon my mush_ _  
_'Cause I have got a crush, my baby, on you

Javert felt something knock against his foot. He looked under the table, and saw the other man’s foot was touching his own. The Lieutenant turned his gaze back to the other man, his… his friend. Jean was blushing a little and giggled.

“Sorry,” said the mayor.

“It’s no problem.”

Jean didn’t move his foot.

 _Could you coo, could you care_   
_For a lovely cottage that we would share_   
_The world will pardon my mush_ _  
_'Cause I have got a crush, my baby, on you

Javert tried his best to look anywhere but at the other man, but he felt Madeleine’s foot press his own again, right at the last lyric of the song, and he turned to look. The other man was leaning on his own hand, looking at Javert with glimmering eyes and a smile on his face. Javert blushed dark, smiling slightly in return. The song ended, the applause breaking the spell between them, causing the mayor to look away. A lady approached the table.

“Monsieur le Maire, would you like to dance with me?” asked the stranger.

“Of course!” he stood.

Madeleine looked to Javert once more. “I’ll be back, Thémistocle. Don’t go far.”

Javert’s heart raced in his chest, butterflies seeming to consume him like a swarm of flesh-eating flies. This was unfair, this was so unfair... Fuck, did he ever have it bad.

“Thémistocle, eh?” came Chabouillet’s familiar voice. “You let the mayor use your first name?”

Javert looked up to him. The Chief Superintendent and his wife were returning to the table. “Yes.”

Commissaire Chabouillet shook his head, chuckling. “This is all news to me.”

“Is that what your first name is, Javert? It’s ‘Thémistocle’?” Madame Chabouillet asked.

“It is,” he replied.

“I never even knew.”

Javert saved himself from some of his longing by conversing with the Chabouillets, though he couldn’t help but watch Madeleine every so often. Sometimes, the two men even made eye contact from across the distance for a fleeting moment.

Three songs later, perhaps, he saw the Bellevilles walking off the dance floor. He made eye contact with Conseillère Belleville, and they waved at each other. The couple made their way over to the table.

“Hello, Lieutenant,” Isolde greeted. “You look incredibly familiar…” she said to Monsieur Chabouillet.

“I’m Alphonse Chabouillet, Commissaire de police,” he introduced himself. “You’re Conseillère Belleville, correct?”

“Yes! Good to see you again, Monsieur.”

Both parties introduced each others’ wives, and the Bellevilles sat at the table, with Monique next to Javert.

The five of them in conversation still couldn’t completely distract the Lieutenant from his longing watch over the mayor. He still felt so terribly envious of every single woman who spent the shortest moment with Madeleine.

“Who are you staring at like that?” Dr. Belleville asked, attempting to follow Javert’s gaze.

“No one. I’m just looking,” he said.

“It looks like you’re trying to shoot deadly lasers,” she joked. “Tone it down.”

Javert looked into his glass, which was empty again. “My apologies.”

Applause signified the end of the song, and Javert heard footsteps approaching the table again.

“Ah, good evening, Monsieur le Maire!” said Chabouillet. Javert looked up at the words, and, sure enough, Madeleine had returned.

“Monsieur and Madame Chabouillet! Wonderful to see you both!” He shook hands with the two. “Mind if I sit here?” he asked.

“Not at all! There’s another chair next to–”

Ignoring the Chief Superintendent on this front, Madeleine removed a chair from another table and inserted it between Chabouillet and Javert, forcing the both of them to scoot apart to make room.

“We’ve noticed that you’re quite the hot commodity on the dance floor,” pointed out Julie Chabouillet.

Madeleine laughed. “Yes, well. I think I’ve given most everyone a chance with me now. I will have some peace for the rest of the night.”

Everyone chuckled, save for Javert, who was too busy feeling relieved.

The next song finally started, with both singers at microphones for the first time all night.

“Have you all danced?” Madeleine asked.

The two couples made various statements of affirmation.

“Though,” said Monsieur Chabouillet, “I believe Javert has just been sitting here alone sulking all night.”

“Yes, Thémistocle told me how he ‘doesn’t want a lady grappling him to a love song,’ or something to that effect,” the mayor said, to another laugh from everyone but Javert. The Lieutenant rolled his eyes. He felt Madeleine’s foot touch his again.

 _I know I stand in line,_   
_Until you think you have the time_ _  
_To spend an evening with me

 _And if we go someplace to dance_   
_I know that there's a chance_ _  
_You won't be leaving with me

He felt Jean’s arm touch his back, and realized with a flush that he had put his arm on the back of Javert’s chair. Javert looked to the other man, but Madeleine wasn’t looking at him. Julie Chabouillet, however, was; her eyes were flicking back and forth from Javert to Madeleine to Madeleine’s arm. Javert’s face went hot yet again and he looked down at the table.

 _And afterwards we drop into a quiet little place_   
_And have a drink or two_   
  
_And then I go and spoil it all_   
_By saying something stupid_ _  
_Like: "I love you"

At the last three words of that line, Jean gently rubbed Javert’s back with his fingers. The hairs on the back of the Lieutenant’s neck stood on end and he shivered slightly. He could smell Jean again.

 _I can see it in your eyes_   
_That you still despise the same old lines_   
_You heard the night before_   
  
_And though it's just a line to you_   
_For me it's true_ _  
_It never seemed so right before

Madeleine’s foot knocked against Javert’s. Javert looked to the other man. He was very close, and he was smiling. His proximity was driving Javert out of his mind. There was conversation around them, but he had no idea what it was that was being discussed. All he was aware of was Jean Madeleine and the song they were listening to.

 _I practice every day_   
_To find some clever lines to say_ _  
_To make the meaning come true

 _But then I think I'll wait_   
_Until the evening gets late_ _  
_That I'm alone with you

“Thémistocle,” Madeleine said quietly, “I’m very glad that you came tonight.”

Javert nodded. “I am, too, Jean.”

“It’s been a little hectic. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

 _The time is right_   
_Your perfume fills my head_   
_The stars get red_ _  
_And oh, the night's so blue

 _And then I go and spoil it all_   
_By saying something stupid_ _  
_Like: "I love you"

“I just wish things went more smoothly, more like the way I’d imagined,” the mayor continued.

“And how did you imagine this night, Jean?”

“I didn’t realize I had invented a fairytale ball, but I envisioned a stress-free evening without anyone telling me I wasn’t a real man.”

Javert began to chuckle, and the other man joined in heartily.

 _The time is right_   
_Your perfume fills my head_   
_The stars get red_ _  
_And oh, the night's so blue

 _And then I go and spoil it all_   
_By saying something stupid_ _  
_Like: "I love you"

 _"I love you"_   
_"I love you"_ _  
_"I love you"

The song ended, but this time, it didn’t break the connection between the two men. Their eyes were locked and they both had a small smile on their lips.

“Monsieur Madeleine.... Monsieur Madeleine!”

The mayor finally looked away from Javert. It was a young lady. “You told me earlier you’d dance with me…” she said shyly.

“Oh, my apologies! Of course!” He removed his arm from Javert’s chair and stood. As he walked away, he kept looking at Javert, with a look that said silently the same thing he’d told the Lieutenant the last time he’d been pulled back to the dance floor. _“I’ll be back, Thémistocle. Don’t go far.”_

Javert stared at Madeleine as he talked to the woman, and, once the music began, danced with her. His hands were light on her body, barely touching. He didn’t hold her even remotely close. But Javert was still jealous, still wishing it were him.

 _You can dance every dance with the guy_   
_Who gives you the eye_   
_Let him hold you tight_   
_You can smile every smile for the man_   
_Who held your hand_ _  
_Beneath the pale moonlight

 _But don't forget who's takin' you home_   
_And in whose arms you're gonna be_ _  
_So, darlin', save the last dance for me

He was suddenly jolted to action by someone’s fingers snapping directly in front of his face.

“Earth to Lieutenant Javert, come in, Javert!” said Chabouillet.

“What?” asked the Lieutenant abruptly.

“Just making sure you’re still with us,” the Chief Superintendent said, turning to smile at his wife.

“I am,” Javert assured him. “I was just lost in thought.”

“We could tell,” Conseillère Belleville said, grinning.

 _Oh I know that the music’s fine_   
_Like sparklin’ wine, go and have your fun_   
_Laugh and sing, but while we're apart_ _  
_Don't give your heart to anyone

Everyone at the table had a strange smile as if they were all in on some big secret.

“What is it?” asked Javert. “What’s so funny? Tell me!”

“Nothing, Lieutenant. It’s nothing,” said Julie Chabouillet.

“We’re all just enjoying the evening,” added Dr. Belleville.

Strange. Javert went back to watching the mayor dance.

 _But don't forget who's takin' you home_   
_And in whose arms you're gonna be_ _  
_So darlin' save the last dance for me

 _Baby don't you know I love you so_   
_Can't you feel it when we touch_   
_I will never never let you go_ _  
_I love you oh so much

He suppressed a sigh as Jean changed partners once again. He wondered what had been going on in the other man’s head when he’d put his arm around the back of the Lieutenant’s chair. He wondered if, when they’d locked eyes for all that time, he’d intended it to seem so intimate.

 _You can dance, go and carry on_   
_Till the night is gone_   
_And it's time to go_   
_If he asks if you're all alone_ _  
_Can he walk you home, you must tell him no

 _‘Cause don't forget who's takin' you home_   
_And in whose arms you're gonna be_ _  
_So darlin' save the last dance for me

“Javert, who do you think the mayor will give his last dance to?” asked Chabouillet. His wife gave him a disapproving look and a nudge.

The Lieutenant scowled. “Whichever lady manages to steal it from him, I would think.”

“You don’t believe he has someone special in mind?” Chabouillet pressed, despite his wife’s attempts to stop him.

Javert made a face like he’d just been fed more asparagus. “Surely not, or he wouldn’t have been passing himself around like this.”

“Maybe he’s simply being generous, but there’s really only one person he wants to dance with.”

Javert gritted his teeth. “I’m not sure what to say to that.”

 _So don't forget who's takin' you home_   
_And in whose arms you're gonna be_ _  
_So darlin' save the last dance for me

 _Oh baby, won't you save the last dance for me_   
_Ooh, you make a promise_   
_That you'll save the last dance for me_   
_Save the last dance_   
_The very last dance_ _  
_For me

The song ended, and Javert was once again relieved to see Jean peel himself away from his temporary dance partner.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” announced the male singer, “I would like to thank you all for having us here tonight. The next song will be the final one in our set, so please prepare for your ‘last dance’. Have a wonderful night.”

There was a murmur in the crowd, and, predictably, all the women who had crowded Madeleine before returned once again with more vigour. However, the mayor gently pushed past them all with an unusual urgency. He politely declined all of them and headed directly to… Javert’s table, once again.

“Thémistocle,” Jean began, hastily, “I know you said you can’t dance, but… Will you? With me?”

Javert turned bright red, and was acutely aware of five sets of eyes pinned to him, eagerly awaiting his response. However, only one pair of eyes truly mattered; the warm brown ones of Jean Madeleine.

“Are you sure…?”

The other man nodded vigorously. “Positive.”

Javert looked down. “I…”

What if he stepped on Jean’s feet? What if he tripped and fell? What if–

–No. This was his chance. This is what he had wanted all night, and, truly, far before this gala was even an idea. He had wanted this for much longer than he fully realized.

“I’d be honoured, Jean.” He stood and walked around the table to meet the mayor, who was absolutely beaming.

The music was starting, and Madeleine took his hand and led him to the dance floor.

Javert’s heart was racing as they found a spot in the crowd.

“Would you like to be the man or the woman?” Jean asked him.

Javert blinked. “I, uh–”

“Would you like my hand on your arm or your waist?” he rephrased.

The Lieutenant swallowed thickly. “Waist would be nice.”

Monsieur Madeleine smiled and settled his right hand on Javert’s waist. “Put your left hand on my right bicep,” he instructed gently.

Javert did so, and the mayor  joined their other hands together.

 _Some day, when I'm awfully low_   
_When the world is cold_   
_I will feel a glow just thinking of you_ _  
_And the way you look tonight

“We don’t need to do any steps. Just move back and forth,” Jean said.

Javert nodded. “I believe I can manage that.”

He felt the warm, gentle hand on his waist prompt him to lean to his right. He did so, ceding gratefully to the other man’s lead. They slowly swayed side to side. It was lovely. Eventually, he made eye contact with Madeleine. His mouth grew dry and emotion welled up in his chest. The other man was smiling at him as if he were the most beautiful thing on the planet. He flushed and his lips twitched in an answering smile.

 _You're lovely, with your smile so warm_   
_And your cheeks so soft,_   
_There is nothing for me but to love you,_ _  
_And the way you look tonight.

“You’re a natural at this, Thémistocle.”

“All we’re doing is shifting our weight back and forth. This is no Russian ballet.”

Madeleine chuckled. “And I’ve never enjoyed weight-shifting so much.”

“Neither have I.”

Javert wished, for probably the first time in his life, that he weren’t so tall, so that he could bury his face in Jean’s neck or chest and breathe him in. Instead, he towered a whole head and neck over his dance partner. He could still smell the mayor, though. Less cologne and more of his natural scent, now. It was so good.

 _With each word your tenderness grows_   
_Tearing my fears apart_   
_And that laugh that wrinkles your nose_ _  
_Touches my foolish heart

Jean’s hand rubbed his waist ever so slightly, almost as if he were adjusting his grip. He pulled Javert an inch closer. The Lieutenant’s breath snagged. He could see more of the man’s freckles, now; the lighter ones that were harder to see.

“I wish I could have been dancing with only you all this time,” Jean admitted.

Javert felt he was melting inside. “Really?”

Madeleine nodded. “And I wish I could have been only with you this whole evening.”

“Me, too.”

“You really mean that?”

“Yes.”

 _Yes you're lovely, never, ever change_   
_Keep that breathless charm_   
_Won't you please arrange it_   
_'Cause I love you_ _  
_Just the way you look tonight

Javert was lost in Madeleine’s eyes, in his smile, in his scent. He was lost in his own love for this man. He wanted to kiss Jean more than he had ever wanted anything his whole life.

 _With each word your tenderness grows_   
_Tearing my fears apart_   
_And that laugh that wrinkles your nose_ _  
_Touches my foolish heart

 _Yes you're lovely, never, ever change_   
_Keep that breathless charm_   
_Won't you please arrange it_   
_'Cause I love you_   
_Just the way you look tonight_ _  
_Just the way you look tonight

The song ended, the final chord fading out. For the first time that evening, Javert didn’t want Madeleine to let go of his dance partner. They held each other’s gaze, still smiling.

“Thémistocle, would you like to sneak out of here as quickly as we can so that no one notices us, and then come home with me?” Jean asked in a mutter.

Javert laughed breathlessly. “I would love to.”

Madeleine’s grin somehow widened further. He let go of Javert and turned around. “Follow me,” he instructed, and quickly made his way off the dance floor.

Javert rushed after him, careful to stay close behind him as he weaved his way through the crowd. The mayor went backstage, holding the door for Javert.

“Let’s go out that door,” he said, gesturing to what the Lieutenant only assumed was the stage door.

“Are we permitted to use it?” he asked.

“Of course!” replied Madeleine. He pushed the heavy door open. “Come on!”

Javert has to admit he didn’t care much about what doors they were allowed to use at that moment. He hastened outside.

The night was cold and dark and they were in the back parking lot of the event hall.

“Did you park nearby?” Javert asked.

Madeleine let the door close with a loud thud and walked to the Lieutenant’s side. “I walked here, actually.”

Javert looked at him with wide eyes. “How far do you live from here?”

“Very close. Only five minutes or so. Come on.”

Javert grumbled a little as they started to walk. He didn’t want to _walk_. But five minutes wasn’t too bad.

Especially not once Jean took his hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. The Lieutenant looked down in surprise at their hands, and then at the mayor’s face. He was smiling bashfully.

“Is this alright?” Jean asked.

“Yes, of course,” Javert stuttered.

Once they were out of the parking lot, Jean led them down a nearby street. There were many recently built, large houses here that belonged to the wealthier citizens of Montreuil-sur-Mer. He wondered which of them was Madeleine’s.

The mayor squeezed his hand gently, prompting him to look down at the other man. Jean was smiling at him. “You look stunning in the moonlight.”

Javert blinked. “Thank you?”

The other man rubbed his thumb along the back of Javert’s hand.

Soon, he led the Lieutenant up the walkway of one of the smaller houses on the street – though it was still quite large and very nice. The front yard was well-tended to with many flowering plants. There was a little sign that said ‘Feel free to pick the flowers, fruits, and veggies! Knock on the door between 6-10pm or 5-8 am any day if you need any assistance.’, and a couple pairs of scissors in a bucket next to it.

“You encourage people take your plants?” Javert asked, skeptical.

“Yes, and what of it?” Jean replied.

The Lieutenant looked down at him. “What if someone took all of them? Or worse, simply ruined your garden?”

Madeleine shrugged. “No one ever has. Besides, if someone were to take all of these plants, they would evidently need them quite a bit.”

“What if someone came along afterwards who needed them more, but there were none left?”

“They could knock on my door. I could offer them something from my back garden or my kitchen, or some money to buy some flowers or food from the supermarket.”

“That’s another thing. You have the times that you are at home and awake advertised on this sign. You’re practically begging to be robbed.”

The mayor chuckled. “I have not been robbed since I have had that sign. Besides, I have quite good home security.”

“You’re incredible. You’re too selfless for your own good,” Javert said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Jean’s hand squeezed his own. “Will you allow me, then, to selfishly ask you to come inside?”

He couldn’t believe he’d been standing here, grilling this beautiful man about his charitable plant-distributing operation. “Of course.”

Jean brought Javert to the front door. He let go of Javert’s hand so he could disarm the aforementioned home security system and unlock the door. He held it open for Javert and flicked a lightswitch which illuminated the foyer.

“You have a very nice house,” Javert remarked as he looked around. It was spacious, tidy, and not very decorated. It was almost as if Madeleine had just moved in, but there were no boxes to corroborate such an assumption.

Jean closed and locked the door behind them. “Thank you.” He walked up to Javert, who wondered what it was that Madeleine wanted with him. He couldn’t help but feel that this was more than friendly, after the dancing and the handholding, but he couldn’t be –

The other man stood on his toes and practically slammed himself against Javert, grabbing his cheeks to connect their mouths in a passionate kiss. _Oh._

Javert whimpered, all the tension and desire of that night finally coming to a head. The kiss was short, much too short. Jean pulled away, watching him closely.

They both stared at each other, Madeleine evidently waiting for Javert to say something, but Javert having no idea what to say.

“Thémistocle…” the name was so sweet on Jean’s lips. “I haven’t… misunderstood, have I?”

Javert reached out with unsure arms to grab Jean’s waist. His form was strong and solid and warm. He leaned over a little. “No, not at all. I... want you, Jean. I love you.”

Jean moved forward abruptly, and they kissed again with much more ferocity this time, the both of them panting and grabbing at each other’s clothes with abandon. Javert had never felt this way in his life. He didn’t even know it was possible to feel like this. Jean made some kind of grunt into Javert’s mouth as his tongue pressed gently forward, requesting rather than demanding entrance. The Lieutenant parted his lips gladly, allowing Madeleine to drag his tongue softly along his own.  

A few glorious moments later, Jean pulled back once again. “Oh, Thémistocle, I can’t even tell you how long I’ve wanted this. Wanted you.”

“I’ve only recently been able to admit that very thing to myself,” Javert said breathlessly.

Jean hugged him close. “Tonight was especially difficult,” he said into Javert’s chest. “Goodness, I’ve just been so– I thought I had it under control, but tonight just shattered that. Seeing you dressed so well, getting to spend a night in your presence, Thémistocle… it drove me crazy.”

Javert swallowed. “I had the same experience. I didn’t even realize how much I– How _desperate_ I was for you, Jean.”

They were kissing again, suddenly, and Jean was holding onto his tie. When the other man pulled away, Javert’s tie was still in his hand. “Come sit down?”

The Lieutenant nodded, eyes wide and hungry.

Jean turned on a light and Javert realized they’d made it to the living room, where there was a comfortable-looking beige couch. He didn’t get a chance to notice much else before Jean was pulling him down onto said couch with vigour. They were kissing yet again, and Madeleine was pushing Javert to lean back, and the other man was on top of him, then. The younger man whined and grappled at Jean’s back, then his hair, which was even softer than he’d expected. Jean wasn’t applying much of his weight to Jean, but it was obvious how heavy he was, how solid and unmoveable his body was. Madeleine sucked Javert’s lower lip into his mouth, and Javert whimpered, shivering with delight.

Jean pulled back, breathing heavily. “I– I really…” He was flushed and his pupils had expanded to cover most of his brown irises. He looked different like this– younger, more virile – and Javert could smell him and it was too much and yet nowhere near enough.

“What?” Javert managed to ask, realizing the other man hadn’t said anything.

“I want to –” he looked nearly embarrassed. He licked his lips. “I really want to– Gosh, I… Oh, Thémistocle…” He moved away from Javert, who was going to stop him, but he knelt and gestured to his left leg.

Javert’s eyes widened. Jean was hard; very hard. There was a noticeable protrusion in his pants that led from his crotch to partway down his thigh. It was huge. He reached out to touch it, but the other man snatched his hand before he could make contact.

“Do you really want to?”

Javert’s pulse throbbed in his ears. “Yes. Yes, please.”

“Are you sure?” Jean asked him firmly. “It’s not too soon, or… You’re not drunk, are you?”

He shook his head. “Not drunk. Not after a few whiskeys. I really… I want you to fuck me. Please, Jean.”

Madeleine swallowed thickly. “God, help me… Only if you’re certain. I haven’t– I haven’t done something like this in ages. Is it wrong to want you like this? It feels wrong. But I– I always stare at how your– your rear stretches your trousers and it makes me feel… _sinful_ things, and I want to touch you and I want to touch _it_ and tonight it somehow looked even better than usual and kissing you is just so good… I can’t help it.”

“I don’t want you to help it, Jean,” Javert said. “I look at your body that way, too. I always have. I’ve always admired how sexy your muscles look. And I want you to fuck me. I want your cock in me.”

Jean let go of Javert’s hand slowly, and he placed it over the lump in Jean’s trousers. It was warm and hard and it felt huge under his hand.

“Thémistocle–” he breathed. “Are you one-hundred percent sure this is what you want? You have absolutely not even a sliver of doubt in your mind?”

“Not one modicum of a doubt,” Javert affirmed, stroking Jean’s erection through his trousers. The other man’s breath caught. “I… Fuck, Jean, I’ve been _lusting_ after you. I’ve been _yearning_ for you.”

“And I for you,” Madeleine said. He shivered at Javert’s touch. “Goodness, you drive me crazy.”

“You make me stupid.”

Jean crashed forward again and kissed Javert in a way the younger man could only describe as _possessive._ Javert moaned and tugged impatiently at the other’s suit jacket.

The mayor sat straight so he could take off his jacket. His shirt was sweat-stained, but somehow this was attractive instead of disgusting.

“Why did you wear suspenders?” The Lieutenant asked.

“I think they’re stylish,” Jean said, draping the jacket over the back of the couch. “Why? Do you think they’re too… Grandfatherly?”

Javert shook his head. “No. They’re sexy. They were just another thing driving me up the wall.”

The mayor bit his lip. “Oh, Thémistocle…” He leaned forward to unbutton Javert’s jacket.

“And you smell like sex,” the younger man added. He realized his voice had shed octaves. “You could have made me drop to my knees in that bathroom, with your suspenders and the way you smelled…”

The both of them sat up so Jean could remove Javert’s jacket and hang it over the back of the couch as well. Jean started to remove his own shoes, and Javert untied his tie.

“I would never have made you… do that in a bathroom.” Madeleine said.

“But you could have.” Javert flung his tie to the ground and started on his shirt. “Though you could have had me anywhere, anytime. You make me stupid and you make me a slut.”

His shoes off, Jean straightened. “Don’t call yourself that,” he said firmly.

Javert bent down to untie his shoes. “It’s the truth. My mother was a whore. It’s in my blood.”

Madeleine grabbed Javert’s arm harder than he intended, making Javert freeze. “You’re not that, Thémistocle. Don’t say you are.”

Javert was aroused at Madeleine’s attitude shift. “I’ve let men fuck me before.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Jean said.

“You know Girard? One of the managers at your factory? I went to his house and let him fuck me in his bed with my face in the pillow and my ass in the air,” Javert said. It was in exchange for some ‘sensitive information’ about Madeleine, back when Javert had been suspicious of this good man. That information turned out to be non-existent. Girard only wanted to fuck. Javert hadn’t minded, terribly. Even at the time, he had imagined it was Madeleine himself fucking him.

The mayor let go of the other man’s arm. “I don’t need to know that!”

Javert took his shoes off and sat up, smirking. “Why? Because it proves I’m a whore?”

“No, it makes me…” Madeleine sighed and rubbed his face. “I have no right to be jealous. But that’s how I often feel when it comes to you. I don’t get angry at you, or anyone, really, I just… I’ve spent a lot of time wishing you and I belonged to each other.”

“And how do you think I felt, watching half the women in this whole damn town dancing with you tonight?” Javert asked. “All those women getting to touch your body and have your hands on them…” Envy rekindled inside him.

Jean looked at him again. “You were jealous?”

“Of course I was!”

“None of that meant anything.”

“Neither did Girard.”

“I would have preferred dancing with you.”

“And I would have preferred you fucking me.”

Madeleine was kissing him again, ferociously. “I don’t have feelings for any of those women. It’s only you.”

“And I–”

“– Don’t mention Girard again. Please.” Jean said. “I don’t want to be thinking of him right now.”

Javert chuckled. “Me neither.”

Jean smiled and they kissed again for a moment before Jean untied his tie, unbuttoned  the top button of his shirt, and pushed his suspenders down.

“Oh, dear,” he said.

“What?” Javert asked.

Madeleine removed his tie, and the Lieutenant immediately saw what the matter was. A button was missing from Jean’s shirt, leaving a gaping hole between his pecs. Javert blushed.

“I guess I’ll have to buy new shirts again,” the mayor sighed.

Javert stared at the hole, and the pale skin and grey-white chest hair it revealed. He licked his lips. “Does this happen… often?” he asked.

“Occasionally. I seem to be difficult to contain in the chest area.”

Javert shook his head. “You’re too muscular for shirts. That shouldn’t surprise me.” He removed his own shirt, watching as Jean chuckled and undid the rest of the buttons.

Madeleine stood to take off his pants, and Javert did the same. Finally, the both of them were in their underwear only. They were studying at each others’ bodies with interest and arousal. Jean was, of course, godly like this. His muscles were solid and defined, and there were freckles all over his body, like little stars forming constellations and galaxies on his gorgeous and solid body. Soon enough, hands followed eyes. Javert ran his fingers over Madeleine’s muscled torso, thick body hair unexpectedly soft against his fingers. Jean stroked the outline of the other man’s body, then his hair.

“Your hair is so beautiful. And soft,” the mayor muttered.

Javert smirked. “Thank you. I’m trying to come up with words to describe how sexy your body is.”

Jean leaned over slightly and kissed Javert’s neck. The younger man whimpered and pressed himself closer to Madeleine’s warm, robust frame. Jean’s hands were wide and calloused and they rubbed and wandered over Javert’s body with abandon.

“Oh, fuck…” Javert felt his own erection throb and twitch against Jean’s abs. The other man bent down further and took one of Javert’s nipples into his mouth. “Oh, fuck!”

Madeleine groaned, a deep and guttural sound. His hands rested on Javert’s rear and he pulled away, his eyes dark and full of passion. Javert swallowed.

“You have the body of a God. I’ve never seen muscles as sexy as yours,” Javert muttered. “And that’s all I could come up with about your body in that time.”

Jean chuckled. “Not bad. Thank you.”

“Though I might be able to come up with something more if I saw the rest of you as well,” Javert said, suggestively.

The other man was smirking. “You think my genitals will provide you with more words?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Very well.”

Javert sat down on the couch so he would be on a similar level to Jean’s crotch. A huge erection tented Jean’s white boxer briefs. Jean pulled them down to his thighs, allowing his cock to bob and sway freely.

Javert swallowed thickly. It was massive. He wasn’t sure he’d seen one this big in real life. His mouth went dry and his own erection, which seemed rather pitiful in comparison, gave an interested twitch. “Fuck,” he mumbled.

“Is that all?” Jean asked.

“It’s… It’s huge,” Javert said. He brought his hand to it, and though his hands were ridiculously big, this cock was bigger. The heavy and swollen balls which hung behind it were incredibly large, too. “Enormous. Immense.” He stroked it gently. It was very warm to the touch and leaking at the tip.

Madeleine moaned. “Oh, Thémistocle… Yes, oh my gosh, yes, please…”

“I want it in my mouth.”

Jean was stroking his hair, humming in pleasure.

“I really want to suck your cock, Jean,” he reiterated.

“O-Oh,” the mayor stuttered, finally understanding the message. “You don’t have to…”

“I want to. Please.”

Madeleine shivered. “Go ahead, then.”

Javert leaned forward until his head was level with this gargantuan prick. He licked the head of it, around his foreskin, tasting the other man’s precome.

Madeleine cried out, holding on to Javert’s hair. “Oh my Go–”

Javert hummed and kissed the tip. He grabbed the base of it and lifted it upwards so he could lick a stripe up its underside. He lapped at a little area just under the head that he knew was particularly sensitive. The other man whimpered, and some precome dripped onto Javert’s nose.

Madeleine wiped it off with a gentle thumb. Javert kissed that little spot before taking a couple inches of Jean’s cock into his mouth.

“Ah, f– Mm, Thémistocle…” Jean’s voice was quivering, and so were his legs. Javert gripped onto his muscled thighs and sucked, moving his head back and forth. His mouth was filled with the saline taste of precome.

“Y–you’re so good… So good at this. I’ve never… Oh, gosh, no one’s ever made me feel like this before.”

Javert hummed, aroused by the praise. He pulled back. “I want to make you feel good, Monsieur.”

Jean whined. “Oh, I thought I had gotten you t–to call me Jean!”

Javert licked around the tip of Madeleine’s prick. “Monsieur has. But it seems right to address Monsieur more respectfully when I’m between licks to Monsieur’s cock.”

Madeleine sighed. “Oh, Thémistocle, you’re… You’re very naughty. You’ll drive me even more insane than you already have.”

Javert chuckled. “Does Monsieur like when I talk to him this way?”

Madeleine pulled back. He grabbed Javert by the underarms, pulling him to stand.

“Enough of this nonsense,” he said, laughing. “Let me make love to you.”

Javert grinned. “Of course, Monsieur.”

Madeleine raised his eyebrows.

The Lieutenant laughed. “Sorry. That’s the last time, I promise. Unless it slips out.”

Madeleine shook his head, smiling. He bent down to pull his underwear down all the way, and his hands rested questioningly on Javert’s waist.

“Go ahead,” the younger man offered.

Soon, the both of them were naked and kissing once again. Slowly, languidly, tongues dragging over each other. Jean’s hand stroked and squeezed Javert’s ass.  

“Lay down?” Jean asked. Javert did, resting against the armrest of the couch.

“Spread–” Madeleine started, stopping and blushing a little.

Javert spread his legs wide, grinning.

Jean swallowed. “Goodness, you’re beautiful, Thémistocle. You’re so…” He stroked the insides of Javert’s thighs, and then the bottoms of his ass cheeks.

Javert’s grin disappeared at the praise and the touches, replaced by a relaxed expression of pleasure. “I’m not beautiful.”

Madeleine met his eyes. “You are. Especially tonight. Especially right now.”

Javert placed his palms on the other man’s hairy, solid chest. He could feel Jean’s pounding heartbeat.

“Please fuck me. I need you inside me.” Javert muttered.

Madeleine settled between Javert’s legs. He brought his hand to his mouth and spat onto his fingers. With his index, he gently prodded at Javert’s asshole. The Lieutenant shivered. He brought his knees closer to his body.

Jean was staring into his eyes as he applied pressure to his finger, making it sink into Javert. Javert sighed, bringing a hand once again to Madeleine’s chest. The finger pulled out and pushed back in, a little deeper.

Jean was buried to the knuckle in him. “Does that hurt at all?” he asked.

“I’m not a virgin,” Javert breathed.

The older man frowned. “I know. But you can still feel pain.”

“I think you underestimate how often I finger myself,” Javert said. “I am very accustomed to fingers in my ass.”

Madeleine was blushing. “I was just making sure, Thémistocle.”

“I’ve thought of you while doing it,” Javert admitted. “I’ve imagined it was yours inside me.”

Now that he felt Madeleine’s finger, he realized how this fantasy was inaccurate. This man’s fingers were a lot thicker than Javert’s own, but quite a bit shorter. Javert could quite easily locate and rub his own prostate, but only one of his own fingers didn’t feel very satisfying, whereas one of Madeleine’s fingers was already quite pleasant.

“Really? I’ve… I’ve thought of you while touching myself, too.”

Madeleine’s finger bent and twisted inside Javert, who moaned in response. “What do you think about?” the younger man asked.

“I think about making love to you,” Madeleine said. “And how your bottom would feel in my hands. And how you would look naked. I must say, this is even better than I imagined.” He pulled his finger out and spat onto his hand again. There were two fingers at Javert’s hole this time.

Javert hummed, clenching and unclenching his ass in a way he had once been told was particularly tempting. Madeleine’s fingers slid inside him.

“You’re so warm,” Madeleine remarked.

Javert chuckled. “Yes, inside one’s body tends to be quite wam.”

Madeleine leaned forward and kissed Javert, fingering him harder. The Lieutenant moaned, his toes curling with pleasure. Jean’s kisses moved to cover his forehead and his face as well. Javert tilted his head back, silently urging the other man to kiss his neck. He did, his lips settling in just the right spot to make him moan yet again.

“ _Fuck_ me, Jean. Please,” he begged.

Madeleine pulled away, taking his fingers out as well. He wiped the spit off of them onto his own leg. He stood.

“Can I… put it in your mouth again, first? To make sure its wet…” Madeleine asked, rather bashfully considering what he was asking.

“Of course.” Javert leaned forward and put as much of Jean’s cock as he could into his mouth, nearly gagging on it.

Jean moaned, pulling out after a short moment. His cock was glistening with saliva and his own precome. He knelt between Javert’s legs once again. Javert managed to part them further yet.

Madeleine made eye contact with him again, his eyes dark and hungry but somehow maintaining their warmth and kindness. Javert whimpered.

“You have such beautiful eyes…” Jean started. “They’re stunning, and it’s so rare for people with your skin tone to have blue eyes like yours, I don’t think I’ve ever–”

“– _Fuck me,_ ” Javert interrupted. “Please.”

Jean blushed, smiling a little. “As you wish.”

He placed one hand on Javert’s waist and the other at the base of his cock, guiding himself into position. The head of his prick gently touched Javert’s hole. Javert reached out to touch Madeleine’s shoulders.

“Yes, put it in,” Javert begged.

Jean pushed forward, slowly and gently. The both of them sighed at the feeling.

“Oh, Thémistocle–” the older man moaned.

Javert bit his lip. “I– Oh God, it’s huge, I… Wait, I don’t think that angle’s going to work–” He moved his hips upwards. “Try now.”

“I don’t want to hurt you–” Jean started nervously.

“–I want to find an angle where you won’t hurt me,” Javert said.

Jean pushed forward. “Is this better, then?”

Javert winced. “Not quite. Perhaps I’ll turn around.”

Madeleine pulled out, looking almost embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Thémistocle. Should we just… Should we stop?”

“Absolutely not!” Javert said indignantly. He flipped onto his stomach, putting his ass in the air (as he had for Girard, thought that thought was far out of his mind at that moment).

Jean sighed, rubbing Javert’s rear tenderly. “My goodness, you do look tempting like this… It’s so…” He squeezed an ass cheek. “It’s so big.”

Javert arched his back and reached to part his own cheeks with his hands. “Why don’t you spit on it for good measure?”

“On your…?” Madeleine’s voice was trembling.

“On my asshole, yes. Please.”

A moment later, Javert felt saliva gather on his asshole. “Shall I try to put it in again?” Jean asked.

“Yes, of course,” the Lieutenant said, spreading his legs slightly more, lowering his body so that the shorter man could more easily fuck him.

One of Jean’s hands softly displaced Javert’s on his ass, and he felt the thick, blunt end of Madeleine’s cock press against his hole. He swallowed, silently praying to a God he didn’t quite believe in that it would work.

He felt a push, and an inch or so of the mayor’s prick was inside him. They both sighed, Javert closing his eyes. There was friction and there was resistance from his body, but it went in a lot more easily than before.

“Yes,” Javert begged. “More.”

The other man did so, pressing forward another couple inches. Javert bit his lip. The stretch was so good.

“Oh, Thémistocle…” Madeleine’s voice was breathy and nearly reverent. “Please tell me I’m not hurting you…”

“–You’re not,” the younger man interrupted. “I swear to God, Jean, you’re not, just–” he moaned. “More. Take me.”

Both of Madeleine’s large and calloused hands were spreading Javert’s cheeks, now. He could feel where each finger gripped his skin. The man pushed again; slowly, carefully.

It wasn’t entirely painless, the last half of Madeleine’s cock sliding into him. Javert had to admit that. But the pleasure was entirely more overwhelming.

Jean’s skin was against Javert’s as the Lieutenant realized he had taken the whole thing.

“ _Oh,_ ” the older man whimpered. “Oh my goodness, I’m– you– _Thémistocle…_ ”

Javert wiggled. “Fuck me. Start thrusting. I need–”

Surprisingly, he didn’t have to ask again. The other man began to thrust into him at an already desperate pace, plunging in and out.

“Please tell me if I’m hurting you, the last thing I want is to hurt you,” Madeleine panted.

Javert couldn’t reply with anything but a moan.

The slap of skin against skin grew louder, more lewd, as Madeleine continued to fuck him. Javert was sweaty, delirious. His hair was sticking to his face and he couldn’t see anything.

Benevolent, tender hands gathered his hair and one fist held it away from his vision. He attempted to mutter his thanks, but Jean had just hit a particularly sensitive spot within him and all that came out was a desperate whine.

“You’re so beautiful, Thémistocle, everything about you is beautiful…” Madeleine said, his voice shaking with passion and exertion. A hand snuck under Javert’s chest, running up his torso and eventually settling on a nipple. Javert gasped, neck craning backwards. The hand on his scalp tightened.

“Did you like that?” Madeleine asked.

“Yes, oh, please…” Javert managed. “I love everything you’re doing, Jean; you fuck me so well.”

The mayor made a sound that sounded almost like a chuckle. “I can’t think straight, but I’m trying my utmost to please you.”

Javert clenched his hole around Jean, who groaned loudly in response, tugging lightly on his hair, probably by accident.

“Oh, yes, Jean, pull my hair, please–”

“What? I can’t p-possibly do that, it’s too beautiful…” Madeleine protested.

“I’m not asking you to pull it out. Just tug on it,” Javert clarified.

The other man gave a gentle yank that could hardly be described as ‘pulling’, but it was something. He hummed in affirmation that that was what he wanted.

“I feel like– like I’m going to last an embarrassingly short while,” Madeleine admitted.

Javert gritted his teeth. “I may not last even as long as you.”

The other man suddenly grabbed Javert by the chest and pulled him up so they were kneeling with Madeleine directly behind him, their bodies flush together. Javert moaned loudly as Jean’s cock was pushed somehow even deeper inside him.

Madeleine didn’t have much control of thrusts in this position, so Javert had to help by bouncing slightly. Jean moved his leg slightly and his hips were at a different angle, and suddenly everything felt even better than it already had. He moaned loudly, his back arching and his hands scrambling for a part of Jean he could grab onto. He had certainly never tried this position before, but was blessing it already.

Jean’s mouth was at his shoulder, kissing and sucking gently. The hand that wasn’t in Javert’s hair played with one of Javert’s nipples, then the other before sliding down his torso and his abdomen to gently take hold of his erection.

Javert whined, hips faltering. He rested his hand on Jean’s solid forearm. The other man stroked him to the rhythm of their thrusts.

“Fuck, oh God, Jean, _Jean…_ ” Javert panted, nerves tingling with sensation. Madeleine whimpered in return.

Pleasure was building inside the younger man and he was aware of how close he was, and he felt it would be much too early, and this would all be over far too soon. But at the same time, this had been brewing between them for so long and the both of them had been yearning all night and he could not have waited another moment.

Madeleine’s broad chest was heaving against his back, laboured breaths forcing their way out in pants. “Thémistocle, I love you, I really love you,” he said, voice strained.

Javert’s face turned red and he whimpered. “I love– oh, _fuck_ – I love you, too, Jean–”

“I’m going to– I’m about to–”

Javert moaned, unabashed. He was so close he could taste the release that was about to come.

“Jean, oh, Jean, _oh, Jean…_ ”

Madeleine tugged on his hair and Javert cried out, bliss crashing over him. His back arched and his neck tilted backwards as his eyes rolled back in his skull. His semen splattered his stomach and Jean’s fist, Jean who was clutching him close to his heaving body and still thrusting against Javert’s prostate, Jean who was groaning out _‘Thémistocle’_ as he came deep inside the younger man, shivering and panting.

* * *

 

The front page of Montreuil-sur-Mer’s newspaper the next morning was the talk of the town. Rumours new and old erupted from both town gossips and those who had always been known to keep to themselves.

A photo from the previous night’s gala, of Monsieur le Maire Jean Madeleine dancing with police Lieutenant Thémistocle Javert, huge grins on their faces and stars in their eyes as they clutched each other close.

The headline: _Mayor Jean Madeleine dances with police Lieutenant Thémistocle Javert at the opening gala of Montreuil-sur-Mer’s Levesque Hall, winning the adoration of many but sparking a homophobic outburst from philanthropist Mme Sylvie Levesque at the end of the gala, leading to her arrest. More on page 7._


End file.
